


The Question, the Answer

by graveyardshifted



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Help, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Romance, Slow Burn, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Why Did I Write This?, Yamaguchi is the best wingman, seriously this is so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveyardshifted/pseuds/graveyardshifted
Summary: This poor, scared boy. Too afraid to invest himself in anything because he fears being hurt like his brother was.Maybe this is why you want to know him: you’re similar.You reach your arm out, actually touching his shoulder this time. He flinches in surprise, and you go to retract your hand before you notice the tension leaving his shoulders. He deflates like a balloon. “Tsukki,” you say, voice soft enough that it's almost a whisper. “Why do you think Hinata has more potential than you do?”He looks at you with wide eyes as you pull your hand away from him, obviously not expecting you to ask him. He tries and fails to slip his confident mask back on without you noticing, but it's cracked, and you can see right through him. “A lie of omission is still a lie,” you remind him as he opens his mouth to speak, making him hesitate.He’s quiet for a moment, and that silence is everything.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	The Question, the Answer

**Author's Note:**

> So, I originally started this wanting it to be around ten docs pages, and it turned into forty-eight. I think I just started writing about nothing, and here we are. This plot is a little bit questionable, but I just kind of went with it after a while, so don't judge me. I have literally no knowledge of the legal system of Japan, so everything in here was just me doing whatever I wanted. 
> 
> Also, having to write about Tendou, who is my favorite character, like this really hurt me. A lot. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope this isn't too boring of a piece, I thought it was cure when I reread it to edit. If you see this cross-posted on Quotev in a book of Haikyuu one-shots entitled 'Fly', no it is not someone stealing it, please don't report it. I will not give you the name of that account because it is very embarrassing. 
> 
> I'm done rambling, now, so happy reading! Please comment if you enjoy it, I love reading what you all have to say :)

For what feels like forever, now, you’ve been full of fear.

Fear of letting yourself be vulnerable, fear of everyone leaving you once they actually know you. It’s because of this fear that you built up as tall of a wall as you could inside of yourself; a final defense against those who could make their way beneath your skin. 

Because, despite how used to being left alone you became, the familiarity didn’t make it sting any less. Everything disappearing altogether caused all the good to go away, too.

So, when you were forced to transfer to Kurasuno in the midst of your first year of high school, you were reluctant to join the club that your cousin helped manage because of that fear alone. Despite her apparent happiness and her steady stream of chatter about the team, you found yourself scared at the chance that people could wear down your walls and end up hurting you. 

However, Kiyoko was insistent that you at least give it a try, and you’ve never had much luck turning her down. 

Little did you know that Kurasuno’s volleyball club would be where you voluntarily let someone inside of your walls and into the space where you guarded your heart.

Firsts have always been a big deal in your family; first steps, first school dances, first crushes…Today, your first day of school at Kurasuno High, is no different, and your aunt is acting accordingly. 

Despite the fact that her daughter has been going to the school for the past month or so, as well as two years beforehand, she bustles around the house as if it’s your first day of pre-school. Of course, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t appreciate her caring; motherly tendencies like these aren’t something that you’re very accustomed to. Since moving in with her and Kiyoko, though, you’ve been seeing more of them than you ever have before. 

“(Name), you’ll be late if you don’t get down here!!” she shouts up the stairs as you straighten the tie on your new school uniform. 

A glance at the clock on your nightstand contradicts her statement, but you just shake your head to yourself and quickly finish your task before shouldering your bookbag. “Coming!” you shout in return as you make your way over to the door. As you turn the lights off, you catch a final, fleeting glance of yourself in the mirror. 

You’re all alone, now.

The words echo through your mind as they have for the past few months, a reminder of your harsh reality. 

Of course these thoughts wouldn’t disappear with your change in schools. 

When people speak of fresh starts, they must not be talking about you.

You close your door and make your way down the stairs. The house has yet to become familiar to you in any way other than that of the nostalgia from your childhood. You see the pictures that line the stairwell and the furniture of the living room every day, yet none of it really feels like home. More like you’re a visitor awash in an awkward feeling while you watch everyone else around you, interacting comfortably. 

Still, it’s much better than how things used to be; there are actually pictures of a full family on the walls, and you know that both your cousin and your aunt love you very much. 

You aren’t alone, not really, so why does it feel like you are?

You shake your head to yourself and put on your best smile as you meet your aunt at the bottom of the stairs. She wears a frazzled one of her own, holding a lunch box and phone in her hand. Your eyes widen and you shoot a startled glance at Kiyoko, who only shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. 

There is no getting out of this. 

She poses you by the front door next to your cousin, and you both wear the largest grins you can muster so that you can speed this process along as quickly as possible. Of course, the photoshoot of sorts ends up devolving into a mess of Kiyoko throwing up peace signs and you giving your aunt your best glare while trying not to burst into a fit of laughter at your stupidity. 

After a few more flashes of the camera, the lunch box is thrust into your arms and the two of you are all but pushed out of the door, well wishes for the day ahead following you as you make your way out into the street to begin the walk to school. 

Your cousin has always been easy to be with; she doesn’t demand more of you than you’re willing to give. So, when you choose to walk in silence rather than make small talk, she doesn’t try to break it. It’s something that you’ve always appreciated about her, and it’s probably why she’s your best friend, albeit the only one that you have left. 

Now that you think about it, this is going to be the first day since you started grade school that you won’t be with someone that you know. It’s something that you’ve been fretting over since the paperwork for your transfer was signed. 

You’ll make it, though; you have to. 

It’s not much longer before Kurasuno falls into view, all rectangular windows and high-standing pillars. A slew of cherry blossom trees rise in front of the building, petals having long since fallen. It’s only a month into the school year, but many things have died. 

The school is smaller than the one that you previously attended, but you don’t foresee it being a problem. You never did like being around so many people, anyways. 

You and Kiyoko slow to a stop as you look apprehensively at the teenagers making their way through the gates and into the doors. They all look so carefree that it’s hard to believe they’re people. 

Your cousin turns to look at you, a small and safe smile on her face. “It’s going to be alright, you know,” she assures, ruffling your hair so that it’s even messier than normal. You scowl, but it quickly melts away with your worry. She sees this, and continues. “The people here are nice, (Name). Even more so the guys in the volleyball club. You don’t have anything to be nervous about. Besides, you know what you’re doing.” 

Her words are calming, and you let out a reluctant sigh. “Okay, Kiyi, I believe you.” 

She gives you a confident nod at this. “Good, and don’t forget that you promised to stop by the gym for practice today,” she says, gesturing to the part of the building that you assume she’s talking about. “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, but I think you’ll love it.” 

When you assure her that you’ll come, she walks off towards the doors, joining another girl who appears to be waiting on her and going inside like it’s easy. 

You don’t mention that you’re too scared to let yourself love anything anymore. 

The day seems to last forever, like each blink of an eye goes on for a thousand years. You used to be the girl who enjoyed spending all the time she could at school, but now it’s just another place where you find yourself alone. You’re ready to go home as soon as the final bell rings, but you promised Kiyoko that you’d go to at least one of the volleyball practices. 

So, you find yourself walking towards the gymnasium against your better judgment.

You take your time as you walk, watching as all of the other students go home for the day. By the time you get to the double doors that lead into the building, you’re the only one visibly walking around. Everyone else must have a place to be.

Your nerves are strung out as you stop in front of the entrance. It’s only been a few weeks since you were pulled out of your old school and started waiting for paperwork to go through so that you could attend this one, but it feels like it’s been months since you’ve actually spoken to anyone other than your family. You wonder if it will be any easier to speak now than it was when your mother left, or if her lingering presence—what you remember of it, anyway—will force you into silence.

Shaking the thought off, you force yourself to put one foot in front of the other, opening the door to the gymnasium. 

To say that you’re not expecting a volleyball to come flying directly towards your face would be an understatement. 

For a split second, it moves in slow motion; you can see every rotation of the ball as it moves in its set trajectory towards you. “Shit!” you hear someone shout in the background. The sound makes you aware of the situation, and you lift your arms just in time to block your face from being hit. There’s a loud thud as the ball bounces off of your shield and onto the floor, rolling to a stop in front of a boy with a buzz-cut who looks like he ran over to intercept it.

There’s a moment of pure silence before the noise hits you full force.

“Hey, good reflexes!” a short, orange-haired boy exclaims from across the room. 

You avert your eyes from everyone asking each other who you are, only for the buzz-cut boy to appear right in front of you. “Hey, that was my bad, sorry!” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. He looks up at you and blinks. 

Suddenly, his entire demeanor shifts and his breathing picks up. “Woah, wait a second… Who’re you? I think I’d remember seeing someone as pretty as you around here…” His whole expression looks glazed over, as if his mind is somewhere completely different than his body. 

Your eyes widen in shock at his directness before someone else cuts in. “Tanaka, that’s enough!” a boy with brown hair says as he walks over to you. He gently pushes the newly-dubbed Tanaka away from you before bowing towards you in greeting. 

“Sorry about him.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m Sawamura Daichi, the captain of this team,” he says while gesturing to the other boys in the room. “You must be our new manager; Kiyoko’s cousin, right?” he asks. 

You instantaneously become tenser, but you’re able to speak. “Well, I haven’t decided if I’m taking the position, but I’m trying it out, yes.” The smile he wears doesn’t falter at your words. “And, you’re correct, I’m (Last Name) (Name), but please call me (Name), Sawamura-san,” you say politely as you bow in return. You don’t feel the need to bring up that being called by your last name, your father’s name, brings you incomprehensible pain. You push it away, though, deep into your subconscious.

“Daichi is fine,” he says, smile still there. “Kiyoko is in-”

He’s cut off by a loud voice. “Our goddess has a cousin and we didn’t know???!” Tanaka shouts incredulously, eyes filling with tears and stars. 

A shorter boy with spiky hair dyed blond in the front appears beside him. “We truly have been blessed, today,” he says solemnly while holding his hands like he’s in prayer. 

You blanch slightly looking at them, but do so completely when you notice the dark aura that’s overtaken Daichi’s face. “WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!!” he shouts exasperatedly, causing their faces to be overtaken with fear. They immediately stand ramrod straight and begin apologizing for their misdeeds.

The feeling of terror must travel across the room, because the orange-haired boy and a tall black-haired one shudder. “Scary captain…” they trail off at the same time. Beside them, you notice a boy with gray hair and another with a man-bun face-palming, while one with blond hair snickers.

Daichi turns back to you with a slightly strained smile. “Anyways, I was saying that Kiyoko is currently with Coach Ukai working on something, so feel free to just watch until they get back. She can start training you, then.” 

With that, he turns around and all but beelines towards the males he’d yelled at just now, flipping between smiles and anger like it’s some sort of internal light switch. 

From his words, you gather that Kiyoko hasn’t told him that you used to be the team manager for a different school’s volleyball club. That’s good; the fewer people asking you questions and trying to get to know you, the better. 

However, you already know the basics of what you’re supposed to do, so you’re not going to sit around. Hearing Daichi lecture the two boys in the background, you make your way around the gym, picking up stray volleyballs so that they can be put back into the cart and reused. You’re not quite sure what exercises they’re all going through, as they seem to be working individually, but work like this is nothing compared to all of the balls you’d had to retrieve when your previous coach would have the boys do a hundred serves each after pissing him off. 

That was just annoying. 

It isn’t much longer before you notice a man with dyed blond hair who you’re fairly sure you’ve seen before in a shop close by walking into the building with your cousin beside him. 

Upon seeing you, Kiyoko breaks into a smile and directs the man over to you. She introduces him to you as the team’s coach, Ukai; the grandson of Kurasuno’s former coach. They inform you that today is going to consist mainly of practice matches, meaning that the only thing you really have to do is man the scoreboard. 

Something simple. 

And, with that, six of the team members are on the court playing a three-on-three match. You don’t really know all of their names yet, but it’s easy to gauge the kinds of relationships that everyone has with one another. 

The orange-haired and black-haired boys seem to work well together, but they constantly argue in between plays. Their three opponents - the gray-haired guy, the one with the man-bun, and Daichi - seem to work together without any real struggle. They look to be good friends, so you assume that they’re all third years and have been here the longest. The only one that you can’t get a read on is the blond boy who plays with the first pair, the ones that are bickering like an old married couple. He looks like he’s trying to ignore them altogether.

The whistle signaling a point for the third-year team draws you out of your reverie, and you quickly flip the scoreboard. Turning back around, you’re more than surprised to see a boy directly in front of you, so much so that you nearly jump. He runs a hand through his messy hair and wears a nervous, apologetic smile. “Oh...sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” he mumbles, stepping aside so that he isn’t two inches away from your face. 

After marking another point for the third-year team, you turn back to him. “Don’t worry about it,” you say quietly. “Did you need something?”

“Oh...no, you just looked kinda lonely over here,” he replies, face turning about ten shades redder than it had previously been. 

This makes your brow furrow for a moment. Why would this make you any more lonely than you’re used to being? 

“No, I wasn’t,” you say. Judging from the change in his expression, you can tell that your words came out harshly. So, you backtrack a little bit. “I mean, I just got absorbed in the game, so I didn’t notice. What’s your name?” 

It’s easy to occupy yourself with trivial things, like names and preferences, than it is to think about what you really want to. You welcome the distraction. 

“My name’s Yamaguchi Tadashi, but you can just call me Tadashi,” he says quietly. “You’re (Name), right? I heard you introduce yourself to Daichi-san earlier.” 

You decide to interrupt him with a nod before he can start backtracking like his eyes say he wants to. He already seems flustered enough that it’s an easy guess to assume that he’s shy. You used to be that way; now, though, you’re just closed off. But, he looks so lost that you find it hard not to feel for him. “Do you want to help me while you’re not playing?” you ask. 

When you see him eagerly nod, you know you’ve made the right decision. 

For the remainder of practice, Yamaguchi switches between standing and working the scoreboard with you and actually playing in the games. He’s not outstandingly talented in most regards, such as who you’ve now learned are Hinata and Kageyama with a quick attack so fast that it’s nearly impossible to see, but you can tell that he wants to be from the way that he plays. Between observing the members of Kurasuno’s personalities and playing styles, you don’t even notice that time has passed until Ukai shouts for everyone to begin cleaning up. 

It takes a bit for you to figure out where everything is supposed to go, but Kiyoko helps, and you get into the swing of things pretty quickly. Soon enough, the only thing left to be put away is the net, which gets handed to you. You walk over to the supply closet, finding that the shelf it’s supposed to go on is fairly high up. It takes a jump on your part, but you’re able to get the net onto the shelf, even if it’s close to the edge.

“Tch,” you hear from behind, startling you. You turn around, speed accelerated by your heart jolting. It seems that you’re getting all kinds of jump-scared today. Behind you, you find a blond boy with glasses, tall enough that he has to look down in order to be able to see you. “We already have one short manager, we don’t need a shorter one,” he mumbles as he brushes past you and pushes the net so that it isn’t threatening to fall off of the shelf. 

Your eyes widen in slight shock at his bluntness before they narrow in annoyance. “Hey, Glasses, my height isn’t that short for a girl,” you snap back as he starts to walk away, mildly agitated. You know that you’re short, and friends that you no longer have used to tease you about it. It’s a sore subject. 

“You know, you really aren’t helping your case, Shorty,” he retorts dryly, a small smirk on his face. Without even giving you a chance to respond, he turns and walks off. 

You roll my eyes. “At least I can see,” you mutter under my breath, earning a bark of laughter from Hinata, who walked up beside you without you noticing. In a flash, he jumps so that he’s face level with the shelf, swiping the net off of it and landing with a triumphant look on his face. 

You look at him in shock as he turns back and grins at you. “Kageyama and I always practice late. We’ll clean up when we finish,” he says cheerfully. “And don’t worry about Stingy-shima, he’s mean to pretty much everyone.” With that, he runs off towards the black-haired setter and gets back to practicing, leaving you pretty much speechless. 

Stingy-shima…?

You shake your head to yourself before walking over to your bag. Hinata can jump, that’s for sure. 

With all of your things together, you walk out the door of the gymnasium and prepare yourself to wait for Kiyoko, who is responsible for double-checking that everything is locked up. 

“Hey, do you want company on your walk home?” you hear someone ask. You turn around to see Yamaguchi and Glasses a few feet ahead of you, the prior being the one who has spoken. In the darkness, it’s glaringly apparent how much taller they are than you. “Tsukki and I don’t mind!” He actually sounds like he means it.

There’s a quick pause, like he’s just remembering something. “Oh, I don’t know if you two have met yet,” Tadashi says, gesturing to the blond beside him. “This is Tsukishima Kei, but I just call him Tsukki.” His nervous energy radiates in waves. 

The newly named Tsukishima still wears the same indifferent smirk from earlier. “Oh, I’ve met Shorty here,” he says. He sounds stoic. 

The nickname ignites the same spark of annoyance, but you stamp it down. You don’t need to let your already unruly emotions get the best of you. So, you just decide to ignore the blond. “I’m walking home with Kiyoko, Tadashi, but thank you.” That, and you’re so used to being by yourself that you don’t know how to interact with people, anymore. It’s something that scares you deeply, having to open yourself up enough to know someone. 

“Oh, alright,” he says, more to himself than anything else. There’s a flash of disappointment, you think, but he does well hiding it. “Are you going to come back tomorrow?”

You have to think about that for a moment. On one hand, you could spend the rest of the year going straight home to your room and be perfectly content. You’ve never been the most comfortable with others, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be fully content to trust people again. 

Conversely, though, you could see yourself fitting in with these people as easily as you did with your last team; they all have their weird quirks that make them oddly endearing. 

So, you decide to take a chance. 

“Yeah, I think I will.” 

You’ve always been quick to get cold. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of winter or the hottest day of the summer, you’ll more than likely be caught wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt. 

Today is no different; it’s the middle of May and, while most of the girls at Kurasuno shed their uniforms at the end of the day in favor of t-shirts and shorts, you find yourself sitting against the wall of the gym in a sweater and leggings as you take notes on the technique of your team members, per the request of Coach Ukai. It’s been your main job since officially deciding to become a team manager for Kurasuno. 

Even swaddled in the sweater’s thick fabric, goosebumps rise up on your skin. Whether it’s just you or the cooler temperature of the gym, you’re not sure, but you suppress the urge to shiver while you move your pencil against the paper. 

As well, you can feel eyes on you. Not just glancing, but staring. Whenever you look up, though, everyone is focused on the game, so you just go back to taking notes. That’s when the feeling starts again. 

Practice goes on. 

It’s only when Kiyoko presents a banner with the phrase ‘Fly!’ written on it to the rest of the team that you notice a fleeting glance from a blond boy in your direction. 

Kurasuno loses to Aoba Joshai in the third round of the Interhigh Tournament.

It’s a bitter defeat, one that leaves a sour taste in the mouths of everyone on the team and stains their moods black. And, in a surprise to yourself, you’re as upset about the loss as everyone else is. You guess you’ve gotten closer to these people than you thought you would. You actually feel like you could belong with them. 

While Seijoh basks in their victory, you and Kiyoko go around handing water bottles to the boys, making sure that they actually drink them. It’s weird to be thinking of yourself as a part of this team, as if you could actually be meant to be somewhere. Seeing everyone this upset brings about this ache in your chest that you wish would go away. They all wear the same look of disappointment in their loss, so you avoid saying anything, opting to pat each boy on the shoulder and leave him be. 

You wish that you could help, but you don’t know how. You really don’t. You can’t even cope with your own loss, much less that of everyone else. 

With one water bottle left in your arms, you walk over to your best friend on the team. Yamaguchi’s eyes are downcast as he sips his water, bag already slung over his shoulder. You know that he’s dwelling on the fact that his serve got sent straight into the net. “Hey,” you say, resting your hand on his arm. When he looks up, he’s startled, and you can see the tears in his eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? It’s not your fault.” 

You know that the words won’t change anything—at least, they wouldn’t for you—but you can’t say nothing to him like you could everyone else. He gives you a forced smile and nods. It’s small, but it’s there. 

You return the gesture and turn around to find Tsukishima without a water bottle. He looks the same as he always does, if you’re being honest; distant and unaffected. You’ve spent a lot more time with him than you bargained for, seeing as he’s Yamaguchi’s closest friend, but you don’t really hate him like you thought you would after your first encounter. Rather, you both have a mutual aloofness, and you’re probably one of the only people on the team that can deal with his name-calling without trying to start a fight. 

Well, most of the time. 

“Here.” You hold out the water bottle for him to take. He’s a lot taller than you are, and you have to look up to see his face, which wears a small smirk as he looks down at you. 

He moves to stand over by Yamaguchi. “You know, I’m surprised that you can even reach far enough to hand that to me, Shorty,” he muses as he walks past you. 

You just let out a heavy sigh, turning back around to see him getting his bag together. “And I’m surprised that you can actually see me from up there, Glasses,” you retort, walking right back over to him and thrusting the water bottle in his direction. “This water is for you, so please take it.” 

He just rolls his eyes in your direction, stubborn as he always is. “I’m not thirsty, just give it to one of the others. I’m sure either of weirdos will drink it as quickly as they eat food,” he says dismissively, referencing Hinata and Kageyama.

This makes you the smallest bit annoyed, and you find yourself rolling your own eyes. “Seriously, you just played three sets. You need to drink something,” you insist, waiting for him to just take it already.

“Yeah, Tsukki, at least take a couple sips,” Yamaguchi says, backing you up. 

It’s easy to read the annoyance on the blond’s face after that. “Will the two of you quit acting like you’re my parents? If I needed to drink something, I would,” he says harshly, making your eyes widen for a second. 

Yamaguchi all but jumps out of his skin. “Ah...Sorry, Tsukki…”

Rather than saying anything in response, you just throw the water bottle at Tsukishima’s chest, watching as he catches it instinctively before you turn on your heel and walk away. 

God, he can be an asshole.

You move out into the hallway where the third-years are already waiting for the rest of you. Seeing Sugawara, you congratulate him on how well he played during the game and talk to him for a minute before you catch a familiar glimpse of purple in your peripheral vision. 

Your heart stops, and you can feel the blood still in your body for a split second. Then, you’re whipping your head around to try and find the color again. Your eyes scan the room violently, vision blurring before it pinpoints on a boy in a purple and white uniform walking in the opposite direction of you. All the breath leaves your lungs as you notice familiar red hair. 

It seems like your eyes are glued to his retreating frame until Sugawara’s words jolt you out of your stupor. “-ey, are you alright?” 

You look back at him quickly, seeing the concern on his face. Shit. You don’t need or want people worrying about you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I got distracted,” you reply quietly. 

It’s a lie. You feel like you’re going to be sick. 

Seeing Kiyoko a few feet away, you quickly approach her and busy yourself by helping make sure that all of your equipment is packed. As well, you check the gym one last time to confirm that no one has forgotten any of their belongings. The familiarity of the tasks helps you breathe again, since it feels like there’s been a weight on your chest for months, now; one that has just resurfaced with newfound purpose. It’s something to lose yourself in. 

And, you are lost; lost in thought as you round everyone up and begin the walk out to the bus. You’re completely zoned out to the point that you barely notice a couple of guys in white and turquoise uniforms walking up and trying to talk to you. 

You’ll thank your cousin later for making them go away. She’s dealt with your dissociation before and knows that you prefer to come back into the real world on your own. 

Sometimes, you feel like it’s better to be zoned out than to be hyperaware of everything; your two extremes. 

You blink, and you’re on the bus, head against the window as you stare at the seat in front of you. You don’t even know what part of the bus you’re on, or how long you’ve been there. You go to brush your hair out of my face, but your hand feels like it’s moving a hundred times slower than normal, like you’re not in control. 

Your breathing picks up. 

You let out a shaky sigh and focus on maintaining your composure. Breathe in and out. In and out. In and-

There’s a light tap on your shoulder, which makes everything come back to you like a rubber band snapping. You gasp a heavy breath and turn to see Tsukishima looking at you with his brows slightly furrowed. Almost concerned, but not quite. 

He doesn’t say anything, so you take a second to gather yourself before I do. “Um, did you need something?” you ask softly, voice barely there. You turn away so that you’re looking at the seat again. A focal point. 

“What are you so freaked out over?” he questions bluntly, completely catching you off guard. 

You swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… I’m fi-”

“Don’t.” A serious expression falls across his face. “I’d rather spend the day with King of the Court over there than be lied to,” he says, gesturing to a sleeping Kageyama with a faraway look in his eyes. “Now, what’s wrong?”

He hates being lied to, and you hate lying, in most cases; how perfect. You don’t want to tell him—or anyone, for that matter—but your mouth opens and the words spill out before you can stop yourself. “I...I didn’t choose to transfer from my old school. It was something that was forced…I saw someone I know from there today and it brought up some memories…” you speak vaguely, trying not to give anything away. You didn’t want people to know upon first transferring to Kurasuno, and you still don’t. 

You don’t look at his expression after you speak, instead just waiting for him to respond. You aren’t waiting for long. “Shorty, you looked like you were about to have a panic attack,” he says, obviously aware that you’re skating over the truth. You don’t find yourself questioning how he knows what that looks like, either; it just makes sense.

When you don’t correct him, you can easily make assumptions as to what he’s thinking. That the memories aren’t good. They aren’t; not the recent ones, anyway. 

“Where did you go to school?” he asks unexpectedly. 

When you look over at him, you can’t say it doesn’t matter, like you want to. His eyes hold yours for an instant, and it falls from your mouth like a believer to his knees to pray. “Shiratorizawa.” The word is quiet, but it holds a lot of weight. “I was the manager for their volleyball team, too,” you continue, glad that everyone else seems to be asleep as Coach Ukai drives the bus to the restaurant. 

His golden-brown eyes widen fractionally, so quickly that you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t been searching for a reaction. He doesn’t say anything, though, so you turn away from him and look out the window. 

It may be ten seconds or ten minutes later that he speaks again. “You were forced to leave?” He hides the question in what sounds like a statement. 

You nod. 

There’s another beat of silence. 

“Sorry,” he says at last, which makes you look over at him. His face, blank as always, tells you that he’s talking about earlier, with the water, but you get the feeling that he’s also talking about the reason you’re hurting, too. 

You dip your head a little bit. “Thanks, Tsukki.” 

“Hey,” he mutters lowly, “who told you that you could call me that?” His tone is accusatory. 

Your eyes widen before you look down. “Oh, my mistake,” you mumble. 

There’s a sharp pain on your forehead, then, and you reflexively jerk your hand up to the point of impact. There’s a small chuckle from beside you, and, seeing the blond’s smirk, you can assume that he’s flicked you. “I never said you couldn’t,” he says nonchalantly. “The air must be bad down there or something.” 

For a second, the weight on your chest lifts, and you take your first clear breath in months. 

When you get to the restaurant, everyone else falls apart as they eat their meals. Everyone but you and Tsukishima, him because he’s emotionally detached from his team and you because the emotions you’re preparing to push away for what once was yours overwhelm you.

You forget to ask why it was him sitting next to you on the bus rather than Kiyoko.

Against your better judgment, you find yourself back at Sendai City Gymnasium the next day to watch the Aoba Joshai v. Shiratorizawa game. 

You know that it’s a stupid decision to attend, especially given your reaction to seeing him yesterday, but you had been caught off guard. Today, you’re coming so that you can try to put all of these emotions to rest. You’re tired of being unable to move on from what happened, and this is the start of that process. 

You sit in the middle of a large group of people so as not to be seen, because you know that the boys occasionally look to the bleachers throughout the game. 

In a surprise to no one, they win the game, which not only makes you happy for them in the moment, but also makes you realize how difficult it will be for Kurasuno to get to Nationals. And, of course, you’re a crow, now. 

As the final whistle blows, you watch with a heavy sense of nostalgia as the boys who you used to call your friends all celebrate in their own individual ways. After everything happened, you were told that you couldn’t have contact with them anymore, but you can’t help but miss all of them. 

Especially him. 

You meld into the throng of people exiting the bleachers, trying your best not to be seen. However, the crowd soon disperses once it finds its way out into the hallway, the space large enough to rid you of your camouflage. 

You walk quickly to try and get out of the building, but you’re too slow. 

“(Name)…?” you hear a voice ask, the familiarity of it so powerful that you can’t help but turn around. You’re met with the sight of messy red hair that you used to love playing with and a face full of disbelief. Beside him, the tall, talented ace that was once your friend. 

Shit. You knew that you shouldn’t have come here. You need to get away, but your legs are locked in place. 

The voice meets your ears again. “Miracle Boy… I’m not seeing things, right? Right…?”

It’s then that you and Ushijima Wakatoshi make eye contact; then that you know he won’t let things get out of hand. Because Ushijima is the only one that you got to say goodbye to, since you were neighbors. Because Ushijima is the one who promised that he wouldn’t let him try to find you again, since it would only serve to bring more pain to both of you, as well as get you placed into the adoption system. 

You turn around just after you see Wakatoshi put an arm around him, preventing him from trying to come towards you. If he were able to, you know you wouldn’t be able to leave, and everything would go to shit. 

As you start walking away, his voice is all that fills your head. 

“No, what are you doing?! Let me go!” 

You take a step forward. 

“Wakatoshi, it’s her, I need to go!!”

Another step. 

The sound of him fighting against Wakatoshi. “(Name), please don’t go...please don’t leave! I know what happened, but you don’t have to leave me! We can still be together!”

Another step. 

A different voice, now, this one stronger, firmer. “Enough. You know that can’t happen.”

Another step. 

Defeated laughter. “It’s alright… I miss you…” 

As you move against the direction that your heart drags you towards, you realize that you’ve become who you never wanted to be. Just as your parents left you, you leave your ex-boyfriend, Tendou Satori. 

When you arrive home, your aunt is waiting at the door. “You went, didn’t you?” she asks, understanding and disappointment mixing in her tone. You think that your tears are enough of an answer. She pulls you into her arms to hug you, and you don’t have the strength to fight it. 

“You know why you can’t be with them, right?” 

Another nod. 

You can’t tell her that it doesn’t stop you from missing them, though, because you’ve used all the strength you’ve built in these past couple of months pushing them out of your heart and letting go. 

A month later, you’re about to board the school’s bus so that you can make your way to Tokyo for a week-long training camp with the teams from that region. 

Most would think that spending a week of summer break watching a bunch of high school boys practicing volleyball would be a waste, but you’ve grown to enjoy watching them play more than you do your actual free time; not only because of the fact that you like spending time with the team, but also because you hate the quiet. 

Quiet leaves room for you to think, and that leads to you getting out of your head and stuck in the past. 

It’s better when that doesn’t happen. 

“Woah, this is so cool!!” Hinata shouts, his eyes nearly glittering with excitement. 

You stand corrected from earlier; you like noise when it isn’t before five-thirty in the morning. 

In all honesty, you slept well for the first time in a while last night, and Kiyoko had to drag you out of bed in order to get you here on time. You’re still groggy since you haven’t had any caffeine, but you know that you won’t be able to get back to sleep on the bus. You’ve never been able to sleep in cars, and, once you’re awake, it’s a done deal. 

“Tch.” The sound comes from directly beside you, making you flinch in surprise. “It must be nice to be an idiot,” the voice calls out to Hinata and Tanaka, who are both excited. You turn to your right to see Tsukishima standing less than a foot away from you with his bag over his shoulder, a tired expression on his face. 

You actually do jump at this, not having expected him to be so close. “It’s too early for this,” you sigh exhaustedly to yourself. And, looking over at Daichi and Sugawara, you can tell that they feel the same. 

Coach Ukai addresses the entire group with a yawn and then, with that, you board the bus. 

You sit in a seat all of your own. Prior to this camp, you had an even number of people, meaning that you could pair off and have two to a seat, leaving the rest for bags that wouldn’t fit under the bus. Since Yachi has become a manager, though, there’s an odd person out. 

Ukai decided to let your cousin choose who would get the lone seat. Kiyoko figured that everyone else would be knocked out, so she let you have the space since you would be the only one conscious enough to enjoy it.

You lean your left side against the wall of the bus, your head against the window. It’s still too dark to see much of what flies past you as the vehicle moves, but you stare outside anyways. Your right foot taps quickly against the ground, a small noise in all of the quiet to anchor yourself to. The soft tap-tap is just loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough to wake all of the sleeping members of the team. 

You’re the only one awake, or so it seems. 

Your thoughts begin to drift back to Shiratorizawa, but you push them out of your mind. You can’t keep thinking about them, because it only makes you miss the way things used to be even more. However, the past is gone, and you don’t want to get taken away from your aunt, so you can’t go back to them. 

Even if you could, though, would you? You care for them, obviously, but you also care for the idiots at Kurasuno much more than you ever thought you would. 

Unconsciously, your right hand begins to tap against your leg. That is, until you feel a dip in the seat and the sound of your bag hitting the ground. Your hand is stopped mid-tap. You turn quickly to the right and see that Tsukishima’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist while he gives you a strange, slightly annoyed look. 

Why did he move from his seat with Yamaguchi? They’d been sitting in the one to the right of you 

“Uh,” you say quietly, trying not to wake anyone and ignoring his move into your seat completely, “can I have my hand back?” 

He only raises an eyebrow, practically rolling his eyes without actually doing so. “I don’t know, are you going to stop fidgeting like you’re the energizer bunny or something?” The blond’s voice is a rough, low whisper. 

Your eyes widen, and you move to tug your hand away, but his grip tightens. You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to groan, though it takes a lot. “Really, Tsukki??” you mutter, having no luck freeing yourself when his grip is so much stronger than your own. 

Stupid, athletic volleyball players. 

You give up after a minute more of fruitless effort and let out a small sigh, letting your hand go limp as your foot continues to tap. Shooting a sideways glance at him, you see that he’s taken his headphones off from around his ears so that they circle his neck. “Why aren’t you asleep like everyone else? And why are you over here? This is my seat,” you mumble, knowing that he’ll hear you; knowing that he’s made it so that he can hear you. 

Tsukishima looks surprised for a second before he glances towards your wrist, which he’s still holding in his fingertips. “Well, I wasn’t aware that the seat belongs to you, so excuse me.” He pauses for a second. “And I could hear you tapping your foot,” he says, glancing down at your still-moving leg for emphasis. 

Your brow furrows. You know that you haven’t been loud enough for him to hear you over his headphones unless he’d had the music so low that he could barely hear it. You look up at him, confused. “But I wasn’t even making much noise…?” The words are just loud enough that he can hear. 

Your leg continues to tap.

The blond rolls his eyes and looks away from you, shadows angling over his face. “I have good hearing.” 

He’s quiet for a moment before he releases his grip on your wrist, putting his hand back into his lap and turning to look at the back of the seat in front of you. It doesn’t seem like he plans on going back to sit with Yamaguchi anytime soon, so you move your bookbag in front of yourself in order to let him get his long legs out of the aisle. 

So much for having a seat to yourself. 

The two of you sit like that for maybe ten minutes, Tsukishima staring ahead and you looking out the window, before he speaks again. “Why aren’t you asleep like everyone else?” he echoes your question from earlier. You turn your head to see tired gold-brown eyes looking down at you, inquiring. 

It takes a second for you to register that he’s spoken and gather your thoughts. “Oh, I’m not tired,” you lie, looking down and not really wanting to delve into how the quiet reminds you of being alone in a bigger sense than just being by yourself, or how you couldn’t go back to sleep if you wanted to. 

Your mind starts to drift towards that, so you focus yourself on the soft thud of your foot against the floor. It’s grounding. You look back up again. “You should sleep, though; you’ll need the energy later on.” 

You say this in the hope that he’ll go back to his seat and leave you to your thoughts, but he doesn’t. Instead, you feel a sharp pain against your forehead, causing you to flinch. You really hope that he doesn’t make a ritual of flicking your forehead during every bus ride. 

“I thought I told you I don’t like being lied to, dumbass,” he mutters with a frown on his face. It’s different than the normal one of disinterest that he wears, but only just. 

You go to protest, albeit weakly, and convince him that you’re not lying—which is also a lie—but you’re stopped when he starts to pull his headphones from around his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him take them off unless he was required to. “Uh, Tsukki…?” you ask when he holds them out to you with a neutral expression. 

He’s quiet for a minute, which makes the entire situation that much more confusing. You’re beginning to think that he’s just going to sit there when he speaks again. “Take them,” he says, whispering again. “I don’t need them if I’m sleeping.” His words are to the point, and he doesn’t leave much room for debate as he pushes the white headphones into your hands. 

At a loss for words, you just nod and look at him with a softer expression. You’re not sure whether he knows it or not, but he’s giving you a source of sound to distract yourself. Your own earbuds are buried deep within your bag, and most of your music has too many memories attached to it to listen to right now. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. 

Tsukishima just gives you a short nod, not looking in your direction. Sensing that he doesn’t want to talk anymore, you turn away and look out the window again. The sky is a bit lighter than it was before. 

Gingerly placing the headphones over your ears, there’s a beat of silence before something quiet and alternative starts playing. You see the brief glow of some sort of screen out of the corner of your eye, but it’s gone before you can really search for it. You lean your head against the window of the bus, feeling the movement of the wheels below you, and let the soft notes of the song wash over you. The music soothes your restless brain. 

At some point, Tsukishima moves back to his own seat, leaving you with his music. With your eyes closed and your foot finally still, you don’t notice. 

Exiting the bus is definitely more chaotic than boarding it. The children—your endearing term for the chaotic foursome that is Kageyama, Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya—all rush to be the first ones off, leaving yourself, the third years, and a couple of others waiting patiently for the stampede to pass.

With the sun high in the air and the boys well-rested, excitement and anticipation crackle like electricity. You can already hear Hinata asking about Tokyo Tower, which very obviously isn’t in this area. You roll your eyes as you make your way down the steps, your bag over your shoulder, and share a jokingly exasperated look with Yamaguchi, who falls into step beside you. 

After a beat, his eyes narrow before widening. “Uh, are you wearing Tsukki’s headphones?” he asks, obviously confused. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though, one that makes your eyes narrow.

It takes you a second to register what he’s said, then another to put two and two together. Your hand moves up around your neck, where the white headphones rest on your collarbones. “Oh, yeah, he let me borrow them since I wasn’t sleeping,” you tell him honestly, not really seeing any point in denying it. Yeah, you’re pretty shocked that he willingly gave them to me, but you’re friends, right? 

“Oh, wow,” Tadashi responds, his expression taken aback. “T-”

He’s interrupted by Kiyoko calling your name, gesturing for you to come talk to her and Coach Ukai. You look at Tadashi apologetically, feeling bad that he was cut off. ” Finish this conversation later?” you ask hopefully. 

It’s weird to want to talk to people again. 

He nods with a smile. “I understand, don’t worry. I’ll give these back to Tsukki for you? I get the feeling you’re about to be busy.” 

You nod gratefully. “Thank you!” you tell him with a small smile. And, with that, you jog off to speak with Ukai and your cousin. 

Official practice is over for the day, but the coaches unanimously agreed that there should be at least one manager in the gyms while the boys get their extra training in. That’s how you’ve ended up sitting in this gym and watching some guy named Lev from Nekoma get absolutely murdered by his captain. The only reason that you even know his name is because the one with the messy black hair has been shouting it in frustration. It’s like the guy is trying to kill him with all of the receives he’s drilling. 

That’s not to say it isn’t funny, though. Your shoulders shake with silent laughter, like they have been since you walked into the gymnasium, as the silver-haired first-year wilts to the ground and groans. 

“Dude...you think you went a little bit overboard?” the Fukurodani captain asks with a laugh, running a hand through his two-toned hair. He’s been spiking balls with the help of a black-haired boy, probably the setter from his team. 

Nekoma’s captain only rolls his eyes and laughs, walking over to the other captain and leaving his trainee lying in a puddle of his own sweat. “If he wants to make the starting line-up, he has a long way to go,” he explains with an evil-looking smirk. 

You’re glad you aren’t the manager of that team. 

You stand up from where you’re sitting against the wall and start picking up a few of the stray balls, putting them back into the box while the boys talk amongst themselves. 

“Hey, you!” someone calls from across the room, surprising you. You turn around to see Fukurodani’s captain gesturing for you to come over. You’re confused as to why, but you hesitantly drop the final ball into the basket and approach the group of boys. 

He lights up as soon as you’re in front of him, kind of like a little kid. “You’re Kurasuno’s manager, right?” he asks, a grin on his face. You find it hard to believe that someone can be this enthusiastic after all of the practice that’s gone on today, but you’ve met Hinata. You’re used to it at this point. 

“Uh, yeah, one of them,” you say. “What’s up?” 

He doesn’t seem deterred by your lack of enthusiasm, which is shocking since his managers seem to be pretty quick to hype him up. He just keeps the smile on his face. “You mind tossing up some balls for Akaashi to set?” he asks, gesturing to who you had previously assumed was the setter for his team. The aforementioned boy gives you an apologetic look. “I need spiking practice and that loser is too busy killing his new recruit to help.”

The loser in question is Nekoma’s captain, who rolls his eyes and smirks. “Yeah, well we don’t plan on losing Nationals, so murder may be necessary.” He turns to me, then, running a hand through the back of his already messy hair. “I wouldn’t do it, if I were you...Knowing Bokuto, he’ll have you here until midnight,” he says in a stage whisper, barely holding a laugh in. 

You raise an eyebrow at that, turning back to the captain. You don’t want to sleep, he wants to practice. Sounds like a good arrangement to you. A small smile makes its way to your face. “I’m down,” you tell the pair, who both seem pleasantly surprised. 

“Alright!!!” Bokuto says excitedly, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “I told you she’d say yes, Akaashi!!!” 

Your immediate instinct is to flinch away, but he’s such a golden retriever that you know he doesn’t mean any harm. His teammate subtly guides him away from you, shaking his head to himself. “Yeah, you were right, Bokuto,” he says tiredly. 

You relate to Akaashi. 

Walking up beside him, you give him a grateful nod. “Thanks, he seems like a handful,” you say, listening to the overexcited boy shout something along the lines of how ‘Rooster-head’ would be eating his words soon. 

“You don’t know the half of it…” he mutters with a small smile. “What’s your name? Bokuto didn’t ask before he dragged you into this, I don’t think.” 

He isn’t wrong. The two of you begin walking over to the net, where Bokuto has already grabbed a volleyball and is practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m (Name),” you tell him. 

“Akaashi,” he says, “but you probably figured that out already. The one with the messy hair is Kuroo.” He takes the ball from his captain and hands it to you. “All you really need to do is throw this up so that I can set it to Bokuto.” 

So, you do. As it turns out, Kuroo really wasn’t kidding when he said this might take until midnight. You’ve been going at it for about thirty minutes, and Bokuto doesn’t even seem to have a dip in his level of energy, which is pretty scary. The sound of the volleyball bulleting into the floor echoes throughout the gym again, and the excitement in his expression is the same as it has been every time so far. 

This guy really loves volleyball. 

“Hey, Glasses!” you hear Kuroo call over the groans of the silver-haired first year, whose body looks like it’s on the brink of collapsing. Your head perks up at that, only knowing of one boy here who wears them. Coincidentally, you call him the same name. “Mind jumping a few blocks for us?”

You resist the urge to laugh. Tsukishima isn’t exactly known for the amount of effort he puts into extra practice. Bokuto and Akaashi walk over to join Kuroo, leaving you standing alone in front of the net. You don’t really find yourself paying attention to the conversation, since you know it’ll only end up in disappointment for the other teams’ members and your friend headed for the showers. 

“Listen, Skinny Jeans,” you hear Kuroo begin, causing you to actually snicker. You’d have to use that nickname later on. “You’re a middle blocker, so maybe you should actually practice your blocks.” 

Bokuto nods his head. “Yeah, and we’ve already got your manager tossing up balls for Akaashi to set!” he adds. You turn towards the door to see him gesturing to you, as well as Tsukishima standing just behind the stairs leading up to the door. His expression changes from annoyance to something else when your eyes meet his, and you shoot him a short wave from where you stand. 

Before anyone can say anything else, he’s stalking up the steps and into the gym, throwing his bag down next to yours. Your eyes widen in actual surprise as you watch the members of the other teams rejoin you at the net with Tsukishima in tow. Their comments must have really irked him, you guess. 

You continue to toss balls for Akaashi, watching as Bokuto spikes them past Tsukishima’s blocks with ease. It’s obvious that one of the top spikers in the nation would be able to get past a one-man block, but you know that the blond is intelligent enough to learn how to defend against something like that. Maybe extra practice would do him some good, but you’d never tell him that. 

He would just scoff and wave you away. 

Eventually, Kuroo joins Tsukishima in blocking, which results in Bokuto’s spikes getting deflected. Of course, nothing good really lasts, though, and the boys end up making comments that cause the blond to quickly make an excuse and leave as soon as a few others walk into the room. 

You find yourself wanting to chase after him. 

You can’t sleep. 

It’s not like you haven’t tried, of course, but unconsciousness just won’t last. You’re sitting up in your sleeping bag, noting the moonlight peeking through the window and reflecting on all the managers’ faces as they rest. How lucky for them. 

You, on the other hand, haven’t been able to stay asleep through the night in a long time. Falling asleep is easy, but staying that way is a challenge all unto itself. Some of the dreams you have don’t really encourage you to try and revisit them, either. 

A sigh makes its way past your lips. You can’t just sit here, and the light from your phone will probably just wake someone up. Your cousin, at least, has always been a pretty light sleeper. 

As quietly as you can manage, you slip out of your sleeping bag and creep through the door, going out into the hallway. The moon and the lights on the outside of the school shine through the large windows, casting long shadows on the ground. You watch your own as you walk through the halls, humming to yourself and half paying attention to the recommended page on some social media app. 

“What are you doing awake?” someone asks from behind you, making you jump. You’re surprised that you don’t fling your phone across the room or yell, something that happens regularly when Kiyoko knocks on the door of your room and you aren’t expecting it. 

Instead, you whirl around to see Tsukishima standing in a doorway that you just passed, a towel over his shoulder and beads of water glistening in his hair thanks to the glow of the moonlight. You feel something twist in your stomach at the sight of him, something unexpected, and you can’t tell whether the feeling is good or bad. 

Quickly, you avert your eyes, but bring them back when you notice that he isn’t wearing his glasses. Without them, he looks a lot more vulnerable than he normally does, meaning that he doesn’t look like an impenetrable wall. 

You take a breath to calm your heartbeat. “I’m surprised you can actually see enough to notice me,” you joke, taking a step to the side so that you aren’t just standing in the middle of the hallway. 

With a roll of his eyes, Tsukishima steps out of the doorway and leans against the wall in front of you, leaving a couple feet of distance between the two of you. He lets out an exasperated sigh, but you can tell that he isn’t too annoyed; he wouldn’t have moved closer to you, otherwise. “You know I’m really not that blind,” he says with his usual sarcastic tone, “Everything’s just a little fuzzy when I don’t wear my glasses.”

“Bad vision is bad vision,” you reply with a half-smile, deciding to lean against the wall as well. 

He shakes his head, smirking now. “I can still see more than you can, Shorty.” He gestures between his eyes and the open space over the top of your head, emphasizing the height difference. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. instead putting your phone in the pocket of your pajama pants. “Fuck you, Tsukki,” you say with a light chuckle. 

“Ah, you wish,” he says, his smirk growing wider. Your cheeks heat up very quickly, but you only shake your head at him and sigh. used to his sarcasm by now. “Also,” he continues, “you never answered my question. What are you doing awake right now? 

He seems genuinely curious about your answer, but your chest feels heavy at his question. You’ve always dealt with your problems on your own, ever since you were little, and the thought of having to let people in and change that is terrifying. Why get others involved in your mess when you’re coping just fine on your own? Of course, your aunt and Kiyoko would probably challenge that statement, but you aren’t dead, so that counts for something. Right? 

In any case, the fact that you have nightmares so vivid that it’s easier to force yourself into staying awake isn’t anyone’s business but your own; and, more than likely, telling Tsukishima why you can’t sleep would lead to you having to explain the reasons for your nightmares, which you aren’t nearly ready to do yet. 

Sometimes, you wonder if you ever will be. 

Then, though, you always end up shoving the thought deep into the darkest corner of your mind. Maybe that’s something that will cause them to fester, but at least, that way, you won’t have to worry about them until they’re too prominent to ignore. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You check your phone quickly, slipping just enough of the screen out of your pocket to see the time. “I don’t think it’s normal to be showering at twelve-forty-eight in the morning.” 

Tsukishima looks at you pointedly, eyes narrowing a fraction. It’s the same look he gets when he’s solving a math or English problem, one that you’ve never seen him have in regard to volleyball: determination, probably to get to the bottom of you tiptoeing around his words. “You’re dodging the question,” he accuses, running a hand through his hair. It’s messier than you’ve ever seen it. 

Rather than acknowledging the truth in his words with a turn of your head, as your normally would, you stare straight at him. “Or, maybe I’m wondering why you always ask me all of these questions when I know next to nothing about you,” you say, watching as his eyes go from narrowed to slightly surprised. “That hardly seems fair, does it?”

While the intent of your saying this is mainly to distract him from pursuing his line of questioning, there is accuracy in your words. Maybe you didn’t mean for it to come out so hostile sounding, but you really don’t know a lot about Tsukishima, aside from what you’ve learned through conversations at practice and school. Nothing substantial, yet he knows more about you than pretty much anyone in the club but Kiyoko, seeing as you told him about Shiratorizawa. 

And, surprisingly, you realize that you actually want to know more about him. Trivial stuff, like his favorite food and song, but also things like what he wants to do with his life, his dreams and fears. It’s the first time since loving Tendou that you’ve really found yourself curious enough about someone else to try and know them. You were always content in your bubble of people before you were ripped away from them; and, once you were, your only defense was to hide away within yourself, shutting others out. 

So why is it now that you find yourself less hesitant to run away? 

There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Okay,” Tsukishima says, the word coming out like he’s testing it, “how about a question for a question, then?” It’s the first time that you’ve heard him say something without some semblance of his sarcastic confidence behind it; it’s almost like he’s unsure. 

Your brain goes on autopilot. “Uh, what…?” you mutter kind of stupidly, confusion written on your face. His idea shocks you more than anything else because you can’t figure out why he won’t just let the question go, or why he’s even talking to you in the first place. You don’t mind the latter, but it isn’t rare to see him ignore pretty much anyone but Yamaguchi. What makes you so different? 

He isn’t mocking like you’re expecting, but something glints in his eyes that you don’t really recognize. “I ask you a question, you get to ask me one in return,” he clarifies. “I won’t lie to you or anything; you at least know how I feel about that.” 

On one hand, you’re terrified. Your guts twist tightly and your breathing picks up just a bit. Because, if he doesn’t lie to you, you don’t have the heart to lie to him, and you have no idea what he’ll ask you. Uncertainty isn’t something you deal well with; it never has been. 

On the other hand, though, this is the only chance you’ve had to ask Tsukishima pretty much anything out of the blue without it being awkward, and you want to get to know him better. So, you debate internally for a few seconds before your curiosity wins out over your rationality. 

“Yeah, okay,” you say softly, releasing the tension in your shoulders.

Before he can ask his question again, you turn, sliding your back down the wall as you sink so that you’re sitting on the floor, legs crossed. When you turn to look back at Tsukishima, you see that he’s done the same, his long legs stretched out in front of him instead. Angling your body towards him so that you aren’t craning your neck in his direction, you let out a heavy sigh. “Ask away.” 

Beams of moonlight cast shadows over his face as they flood in from the windows on the wall across from you. His eyes, dark, fix themselves on you, and you feel your fingers unconsciously start fiddling with the hem of your shirt, twisting the fabric in an attempt to ease your nerves. “Why are you awake?” he asks.

You take a breath. This is fine; you were expecting this question. 

“It’s not easy for me to stay asleep,” you say. “I get these really bad nightmares, and they wake me up, more often than not. I figured it was easier to stay awake rather than risk waking the others if I got one and started freaking out.” 

Your answer is truthful, and there’s a minuscule shift in the expression on Tsukishima’s face. Concern, you realize; something you never thought you’d see him expressing towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, his face speaking volumes, but you continue. “I’ve had them for a while now, so I’m used to them. It’s really not that big of a deal…” 

It takes you a second to recognize that you’ve probably said too much, so you awkwardly move on before he can give you any response. “What’s your favorite color?” you ask with a small smile. 

In an instant, his face is back to its normal, condescending expression. He scoffs. “Is this really what you’re wasting your question on?” The teasing edge to his voice is almost comforting, at this point. 

You smile fully this time. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. And since you’ve asked me another question, tell me your favorite animal, too.” 

Ah, loopholes. 

His eyes widen, and you can practically see him working back through both of your words to figure out his mistake. When he does, he sighs. “If you want to play it like that, fine. Watch your words, Shorty.” He pauses before continuing. “I’m not sure if I really have a favorite color, but my favorite hoodie when I was younger is this dark purple, so I guess that’s the closest thing I have to one. That hoodie still fits, actually,” he chuckles. 

“Yeah,” you interject, “because you’re the skinniest person I know.” Your thoughts flash back to Tendou, who is also a beanpole, and you push them away before they can actually register. 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, giving you an annoyed look. You can see the corners of his mouth tilting up, though. “Do you want me to finish or not?” he questions. 

When you stay silent, he continues. “My favorite animals are dinosaurs. There is no argument as to why they aren’t the best animal.” His tone is so solemn and matter-of-fact that you have to resist the urge to laugh.

Completely disregarding the second part, you nod. “They are—or were—good animals, so I can respect that,” you say. 

“You’d better,” he replies with a serious nod that you have to resist the urge to laugh at. You tense as he thinks of his next question, though, completely unsure of what it could be. If you’re correct, though, the questions will only get harder for you to answer as you go along.

“Okay,” he says, “why did you join the volleyball club? You showed up on your first day after your transfer, right?” 

You decide to disregard the second question since it’s pretty much just affirming what he already knows. You take a second to gather your thoughts before speaking. “I joined because I knew that Kiyoko wanted me to,” you say carefully. “After I had to leave Shiratorizawa, I didn’t really do anything while I was waiting for the transfer to go through but stay in the house. She knew that I loved helping out with my old club, so she really wanted me to get involved with this one.” 

You look down at your lap, smiling to yourself. “I’m glad that she did, though; you all are really talented, and it’s cool that I get to watch you grow.”

Looking back up, you’re confronted by his stare—intense and unwavering—and you shake your head to yourself. “Um, sorry,” you mumble. You pick the first question that pops into your mind. “What was that first song you played when you gave me your headphones on the bus?” you ask. “I really liked it.” 

He looks surprised for all of a second before he responds. “It’s called Fade into You by Mazzy Star,” he tells you without any further explanation. You don’t mind, though; you’ve already committed the name and artist of the song to memory. 

His next question comes quicker than the previous ones have. “Are you close with your cousin?” he asks, bringing his right leg up to his chest so that he can rest his arm against his knee. 

This is one that catches you completely off-guard. It’s not that it’s an invasive question or anything along those lines, but you’re completely clueless as to why he would care about your answer. Does he like Kiyoko or something? If he does, it’s really not obvious, but, from having been friends with him for the past couple of months, you suppose that nothing really is. 

Would he really talk to you this much just to get more information on your cousin? Even Nishinoya and Tanaka haven’t stooped that low, and they’re supposedly in love with her. The possibility makes your heart clench, but you aren’t sure exactly why. 

Despite your confusion, you answer honestly. “Yeah, we are.” You continue fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “She’s been one of my best friends since before I can remember; when we were younger, our parents would stick us together with one babysitter when they had to go out somewhere, since we lived so close together. We’ve been each other’s number one since then, I guess,” you explain, trying to decipher any emotion on his face. You don’t ask Tsukishima why he wants to know, though; you probably don’t want the answer to that, anyway, and you have other questions that you’d rather ask. 

You take his silence as your go-ahead. “What is it with you and dishonesty?” you ask. “I mean, I get not wanting to be lied to, but it seems kind of personal for you.” 

His expression becomes more guarded than usual, and when he averts his eyes from you, you realize that you’ve hit a sore spot. You aren’t going to change your question, though; you’ve been vulnerable with him this entire time, so he can return you the same courtesy. 

“I…” he starts, only to trail off. He’s always so composed and sure of himself that it’s strange to see him struggling to find words. He does, though, as always. “My brother lied to me when I was younger, and it ended up hurting the both of us,” he says, running a hand through his hair again. It’s nearly dry, now, but his fingers leave parts of it sticking up like he’s just been through a wind tunnel. 

You shoot him a look, both of you knowing that his answer was much too short and vague to count. He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes for a second before focusing on you again. There’s no smirk or condescending look on him at all, and he looks so much younger without that defense; less like the asshole you know him to be. 

After a few more seconds, there’s a noticeable shift in his posture. He sits up a bit straighter, like he’s trying to force himself to appear unaffected. “My brother, Akiteru, is a few years older than we are, and he loves volleyball. He’s at university, now, but it’s pretty much all he talks about when he’s home,” Tsukishima starts. His tone isn’t one like you’re used to seeing between siblings; it’s more annoyed and exasperated than anything else, like he’s the older sibling instead. Although, he takes that tone with pretty much everyone, so it isn’t too much of a shock.

“When I was younger, I thought he was amazing, and he’d always tell me about how well his team was doing. I don’t know, I guess it was just something about the excitement he had that made me want to see him in action. He’d talk about being the ace, and he told me about all of his matches, too.” His eyes are somewhere far away, not really focused on you anymore, instead seeing through you and into something else. 

“He was a player for Kurasuno a few years ago, the same team that the Tiny Giant or whoever it is that Hinata’s obsessed with was on.” He lets out a sardonic bark of laughter, and your brow furrows. 

Since joining as a team manager, both you and Kiyoko have studied past teams, especially that particular line-up, to see how you can improve. You go to open your mouth, but Tsukishima voices your thoughts before you can say them. “He was never on the starting lineup, I know. That’s probably why you haven’t heard of him,” he tells you, voice almost monotone with how much he’s trying not to let any emotion show. You can tell that this is something that impacted him, but you don’t want to force anything out of him that he really doesn’t want to address. 

“He always made it seem like he was playing in every match, but he never wanted me to go to the games. He’d always make up some different excuse so that I wouldn’t find out.” He begins fiddling with his fingers as he takes a breath. “One day, I snuck into a match, and he wasn’t playing. I ended up finding him crying in one of the closets later; I don’t think he’d even been on the bench for the entirety of the year…” he trails off for a second, gathering his thoughts, his fidgeting getting much more noticeable. “It’s upsetting, seeing someone you look up to look so hopeless, and I hate lying because it only ends up in both the liar and the person being lied to being hurt.”

You watch his hands, noticing how much tension there is in the rest of his body. After hearing everything, Tsukishima’s general demeanor and lack of effort into the game make a lot more sense, and your heart goes out to him. You know what it’s like to watch your family be hurt; you’ve seen it happen to your aunt, after all. Of its own accord, your hand leaves your lap, about to reach out to the passionless boy in front of you, when he speaks again. 

“It’s the same thing with Hinata,” he says, shocking you. “I really don’t give a shit about him, one way or the other, but he’s just lying to himself by thinking he’s gonna be the best at volleyball, or even the ace of this team. He’s just gonna end up being disappointed.” Tsukishima is muttering this more to himself than you at this point, his eyes downcast towards his legs and his brow furrowed. 

This poor, scared boy. Too afraid to invest himself in anything because he fears being hurt like his brother was. 

Maybe this is why you want to know him: you’re similar. 

You reach your arm out, actually touching his shoulder this time. He flinches in surprise, and you go to retract your hand before you notice the tension leaving his shoulders. He deflates like a balloon. “Tsukki,” you say, voice soft enough that it's almost a whisper. “Why do you think Hinata has more potential than you do?”

He looks at you with wide eyes as you pull your hand away from him, obviously not expecting you to ask him. He tries and fails to slip his confident mask back on without you noticing, but it's cracked, and you can see right through him. “A lie of omission is still a lie,” you remind him as he opens his mouth to speak, making him hesitate. 

He’s quiet for a moment, and that silence is everything. 

“Hinata has more potential because he loves this sport more than he loves himself, and I barely put in the effort,” he says, voice low. You watch the way his jaw clenches. “It’s easier to go far when you care about something like that, and I don’t think I’ll ever have the same drive he does. I’d rather be content in mediocrity than risk the fall of flying.” 

Something in your chest tightens at his words, and your automatic instinct is to comfort him, despite being unable to do so for yourself. “Tsukki,” you address him, grabbing his attention, “you have to know that isn’t true.” His eyes narrow, and he goes to speak, but you beat him to the punch. “People like Hinata and Kageyama are freaks of nature; there aren’t a lot of people in the world who care for something as much as they care for volleyball. Just because you aren’t like them doesn’t mean you won’t find something worth putting effort into,” you say, voice calm and sure. 

You know that he’ll find the courage to invest himself in something; he’s too smart and decisive not to. 

Tsukishima stares at you for a moment, eyes full and mouth partially open. With the angle he sits at, the moonlight makes the hazel in them shine brighter than the stars outside, and you can’t look away. The two of you stay like that for a second, staring at one another, eyes trapped. Eventually, though, he shakes his head to himself and looks away, turning his attention to the night sky outside. 

“Okay, Shorty,” he mumbles, not looking at you. It’s a not-so-subtle way of brushing your comment off, but you know that he’s thinking about it. “Whatever you say.” 

You just nod, also turning to look out the window in front of you, connecting the stars like dots, creating constellations of your own. “You have two questions left, you know,” you say without moving your eyes, hands calmly resting in your lap. 

“I know,” he replies. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in comfortable, complete silence, looking through the glass of the windows and losing yourself in your thoughts. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that you aren’t fighting the urge to retreat into solitude; the first time that you feel safe in the fact that, despite letting yourself be vulnerable with a person, he won’t end up being ripped away from you. 

And, because of this, you aren’t shocked to realize that you actually like him as a person, the extent of which is something that doesn’t terrify you as much as it probably should. 

It could be minutes or hours later that he speaks again; you’re not sure, and you don’t feel the urge to grab your phone and check. “Call me Kei,” he says, still not looking at you.

You turn your head, though, slightly surprised, but also content. “Only if you call me by my name instead of Shorty,” you retort, a joking smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You’re half expecting him to scoff and roll his eyes, but he turns to meet your eyes with a half-smirk on his face. “Okay… (Name),” he says quietly, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. It’s the first time he’s ever addressed you by it, and the way he says it just sounds right. 

For the first time in months, your heart doesn’t feel empty. 

“Tadashi, oh my god, you were incredible!!” you shout as you run up to him, nearly tackling him in a hug. 

A couple of months have passed since the training camp in July, and a lot of things have changed since then, particularly in that your friendship with both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima has grown, even progressing to the three of you hanging out with one another outside of school and practices. It’s strange, having something like that to look forward to again. Words can’t describe how much you’ve missed the feeling of being wanted, the same way you felt when you would go over to Tendou’s house to read the latest edition of Shonen Jump, or when you and the rest of the team could convince Ushijima to go out to dinner with you all. 

Having that back is something you value more than words can express. 

You push that thought out of your mind as Yamaguchi hugs you back, mumbling about how sweaty he is before actually wrapping his arms around you. 

Kurasuno has just beat Aoba Joshai in the semi-finals of the Spring Preliminary Tournament. It was a close game, and everyone played their best, but you can’t help the swell of pride you feel for your friend. You say as much, too. “Six points is amazing!!” you tell him as you pull away, a wide smile on your face as his own quickly starts to blush. 

“(Name), it’s really not that big of a deal,” he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head. You can see the pride on his features, though, something uncharacteristic for him. It’s shocking how much he’s grown as a player in the short time that you’ve known him; nearly six months, now. 

You roll your eyes and turn your head, seeing Tsukishima walking over to the two of you out of the corner of your eye. “Kei,” you say, grabbing his attention, “please tell Tadashi that he did really well today. He won’t listen to me.” Your tone would almost be pouty if it weren’t for the humor hidden in it. 

Tsukishima only raises an eyebrow at you, coming to a stop beside you. “I mean, he played about how I expected him to. He’s been working hard, after all,” he says plainly. 

To your left, Yamaguchi’s eyes widen and his face gets even redder than you thought was possible. It makes sense; coming from the moist stoic, sarcastic person on Kurasuno, who also happens to be his best friend, that comment is probably the best compliment he could get. 

You try and fail to stifle a laugh. “You might have broken him,” you giggle, gesturing over to where Tadashi is Yamaguchi struggling to think of any words to say. 

Tsukishima sighs, running a hand through his blond hair, which is matted down by sweat. “He’ll survive.”

“At least, I think he will,” he adds after a few more seconds of Tadashi growing more and more flustered. It’s at that moment that Shimada, Yachi, and Saeko walk up to the group, congratulating everyone and effectively snapping Yamaguchi out of whatever trance he was in. As well, it’s then that you see a flash of purple across the room. 

You take a heavy breath. The idea of having to face all of them tomorrow, even if you won’t be on the court, frightens you. Not only because you know their strength, how great of a team they are, but also because you know that you have to make things right with Tendou. It was wrong of you to let him go this long without closure, even if you had little choice in the matter; and, as uncertain as you are that you’ll ever truly be able to move past what happened, you know that it will be impossible if you don’t make thing right with him as best you can. 

Something brushes your shoulder quickly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you alright?” Tsukishima asks you, gold-brown eyes narrowed just a fraction. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice soft. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kiyoko asks you as you walk into Kurasuno’s gymnasium, finally finished unloading the bus. It’s been about ten minutes since the boys sleepily filed off of the vehicle and into the building to have their team huddle. Meanwhile, you, Kiyoko, and Yachi are left to unpack the bus, which gives you a bit of time to gather your thoughts. 

You turn your head to look at your cousin, noting the concern on her face, and nod, giving her a smile that both of you know is fake. Though it makes you completely uncomfortable and upset, this is something that you need to do; plus, it would be a disservice to your friends if you withheld this kind of information from them. 

After all, who better to brief them on Shiratorizawa than their previous manager?

Ukai is still talking about today’s game when the three of you walk in, so you go to stand beside him and just listen to his commentary for a little while. While you do so, your eyes scan the half-circle of volleyball players aimlessly, noting how, despite the fact that they just played two full games today, they all look alert at their coach’s words. 

It’s funny; you didn’t even play today, yet you feel more exhausted than they look. 

You’re completely zoned out by the time that Kiyoko and Yachi start handing out the packets that the three of you put together a couple of weeks ago. Oddly enough, it was your idea to do so; since the training camp, you’ve been completely confident that Kurasuno would be able to take on Aoba Joshai. As it turns out, you were right. 

“Your managers were nice enough to make these for you, so make sure you read them cover to cover,” Ukai warns, putting a hand in his pocket. “Oh, and (Name) has a couple of things to say, as well.” He gestures for you to take the floor, and you shake your head to yourself before moving to take his place. 

Every pair of eyes in the room is fixed on you, making your hairline bead with cold sweat, but you push the nervousness down and force the words out. “Okay, so uh, I actually used to be the manager for Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team, so I’m gonna give you an overview of the most important parts in the packets we made for you,” you mumble, just loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Aside from the adults in the room, Kiyoko, and Tsukishima, nearly everyone expresses some sort of shock on their faces, which you were expecting. “Damn,” Tanaka says with an impressed whistle. “And you chose to come here?”

“Shut up,” Daichi responds with an exasperated sigh, saving you from a really awkward silence since you have no clue how you would have responded. He rubs his forehead like a tired father before turning his attention back to you. “Go ahead, (Name).” 

You relax a little bit, letting out a soft chuckle. “Okay, so the biggest thing that screws with a lot of people is that Ushijima is left-handed…”

It’s late when you finally lock up the gymnasium, having volunteered to do so for Kiyoko since Hinata and Kageyama wanted to stay after and practice, as usual. The two of you, over the course of the past few months, developed a system so that at least one of you would get home early enough to eat dinner at a normal time. And, while tonight had technically been your cousin’s night to lock up, you figured she deserved some rest. 

Besides, it wasn’t all that bad; Yachi had been there to keep you company while your hyperactive classmates pushed themselves beyond the reasonable limits of the human body.

Pulling the keys out of the door, you shove them, along with your hands, into the feeble warmth of your pockets. 

The air outside is chilly, and you only realized that you left your jacket in your bag after you let Kiyoko take it home with her. You don’t live that far away from the school, though, so it isn’t too much of an issue. However, that doesn’t stop the unintentional shiver that runs down your spine as a gust of wind blows past.

“You really should be more prepared for the weather, especially when you stay late,” a voice mumbles right next to your ear. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you jump about as high as Hinata can. “Shit!” you shout, forcing yourself away from the source of the voice and quickly turning to see what threat you’re dealing with. Blood pounding, a familiar lanky blond fills your vision, and you exhale an audible sigh of relief. 

Tsukishima always finds a way to sneak up on you, it seems. 

“What the hell are you still doing here?” you ask, probably louder than you need to, bringing a hand up to your chest as if it will slow your heart. It doesn’t. 

Your eyes actually focus on him rather than just his general shape, and you notice the smirk that quirks his lips to one side. Sometimes, you entertain the thought of punching it off of him, but you think it suits his features more than anything else would. You seriously can’t imagine a completely genuine smile on Tsukishima’s face. 

“It’s eleven pm. You should be at home,” you continue, beginning to walk instead of just standing outside in the cold. 

He’s quick to fall into step beside you. “What, you seriously think you’re going to walk home alone this late at night?” he asks rhetorically, voice holding its normal edge of sarcasm. “The idiots who kept you here obviously aren’t smart enough to make sure you get home.” Lately, he or Tadashi—sometimes, the both of them—has been walking you home, despite your assurances that you can make it back to your house just fine. You never expected for either of them to stay this late just to do that, however.

You don’t answer, but a part of your chest tightens. If you didn’t know him, you’d think of this as something sweet, or romantic. You do know him, though, so you stamp out that little spark of hope, crushing it like one would the butt of a cigarette. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but you’ve developed a sort of crush on Tsukishima. 

Certainly, it didn’t develop overnight, but it felt like, one day, you still loved Tendou, yet you had developed feelings for Tsukishima by the next. Of course, that doesn’t mean that you don’t still care for the prior, because you do. A part of you always will, you think; he was your best friend before you ever even dated. Regardless of that, though, you know you aren’t in love with him anymore, something that leaves you with a bittersweet feeling. 

“Are you still in there?” Tsukishima asks, bringing you out of your head and back into reality. You blink a couple of times before you see that he’s holding his jacket out to you. It’s then that you notice the goosebumps covering all of your exposed skin, as well as the small tremors wracking your body. 

It’s colder out than you thought. 

He all but shoves the jacket into your unexpecting arms when you don’t take it by yourself, rolling his eyes at you. “Put that on before you turn into an ice cube,” he mutters, averting his eyes from you. He sounds irritated, but you can tell that he isn’t. Not too much, at least. 

“But then you’ll be cold,” you object, trying to give it back to him. You have more fat on your body than he does and, honestly, if you didn’t know that he had at least a little bit of muscle from running so many laps every day, you’d be worried that a single wind chill would carry him away. 

He lets out a groan, side-stepping away from you so that you can’t force him to take it. “(Name), quit being a martyr and just put the jacket on,” he says forcefully. When you look over at him, you can practically see the vein popping from his temple. 

You look at him for a few more seconds before concluding that he isn’t going to relent on this. “If you’re sure,” you mumble, slipping your arms through the fabric and bringing it over your shoulders. The warmth is nearly instantaneous, and you fight off a contented sigh, instead looking down so that you can zip the jacket up. 

You aren’t sure what size it is, but it’s big on you, the tips of your fingers just barely making it past the ends of the sleeves. “Thank you,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond—he doesn’t need to—and the two of you walk in silence towards your house, breaths fogging in the air beneath the light of the streetlamps. Once he’s sure that you aren’t planning on ripping his jacket off and throwing it back at him (at least, that’s what you assume his reasoning to be), he closes the gap between the two of you. Though he’s still a healthy amount away, you can practically feel the warmth that his hand radiates as it hangs by his side, inches away from yours. 

Huh, you wouldn’t have thought that he’d be the space heater type; he seems like he’d be cold enough to match his demeanor, if anything. 

You pass Sakanoshita, Ukai’s convenience store, and see that it, too, is closed. You really need to start setting a limit on how late Hinata and Kageyama use the school gym to practice; though you don’t mind that much, this is kind of ridiculous. It makes you feel even worse than you already do that Tsukishima stayed late in order to walk you home, even if he did it of his own accord. 

You glace at him out of the corner of your eye, and his eyes are looking straight ahead, not even glancing at the passing shops and lights. The way that he can push away any sort of distraction and focus on one thing, both unintentionally and on purpose, is impressive, in a way. Whenever you try to ignore something, it just makes itself more known to you. 

“You still owe me two questions back from the training camp in July,” he says abruptly, breaking the silence and making you actually turn your head towards him. He’s looking at you, too, an expression akin to a mix of confusion and curiosity on his face. Maybe he’s just as surprised by his outburst as you are. 

You let out a sigh. “Of course you still remember about that,” you mumble to yourself, really not all that shocked. 

Despite the fact that you knew he wouldn’t forget about them—honestly, you would have been astounded if he did—you’ve been selfishly hoping that the memory would slip his mind. Of course, you aren’t going to say no, but you also have a bad feeling that he’ll ask you something that will make you talk about everything, and you haven’t even done that with what family you have left. He’s too smart for his own good behind all of that indifference, and he likes solving equations. In a sense, you’re probably the most difficult equation that he’s come across. There’s no doubt that he wants to figure you out.

And, even if you want to, you know you won’t be able to lie to him should he ask. Not when he’s been honest with you. 

Even beyond that, there’s just something about him that makes you want to be truthful and spill your guts. It’s been a feeling that you’ve had since he first talked to you, the reason you told him that you had gone to Shiratorizawa so much longer before you told anyone else. You’ve done a pretty good job of repressing it by capitalizing on your discomfort and reluctance to dredge up the past, but it’s always been there. 

He hums in agreement, nodding. He walks past a streetlamp at the perfect angle, his head blocking the light, causing it to create a glowing outline around his frame like some kind of eclipse. With shadows highlighting the planes of his face, his signature smirk just shy of tugging the corners of his lips upwards, he looks hauntingly beautiful in the same way that Michelangelo's sculptures do. 

He’s quiet again as he looks at you, and you haven’t a clue what he could be thinking about. “Are you going to ask me something, or are you just holding it over my head?” you question, as joking of a smile as you can manage resting on your face. 

Tsukishima starts, obviously having been deep in thought before you broke his concentration. He brushes it off cooly, as he always tries to do. “I was just waiting to see if you were going to try and object or something,” he says with an overexaggerated attempt at his normal confidence. You just roll your eyes. 

“And you couldn’t ask me this?” you reply, slowing your pace down now that you’re actually talking to him. He does so in time with you, but still goes a bit faster than you do, thanks to his stupidly long legs. 

He chuckles at that, eyes crinkling just slightly. “No,” he deadpans, his tone conveying enough saltiness to rival the ocean. “You would just count it as one of my questions.” 

At that, you can’t help but laugh. He hit the nail on the head. “I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” you say robotically. He shakes his head at you and looks up at the sky, as if he’s asking some higher being what possessed them to put you on this Earth. The joke is on him, though; he’s the one who chose to walk you home. 

His face becomes more serious after a second, and your posture tenses as a result. It feels like you’re waiting for millennia rather than the few seconds it takes him to ready the question in his mind. However, as he speaks, trying to find your averted eyes with his, it’s like his voice isn’t his own, but a larger one, the one that your subconscious has been screaming at you with for months. 

“Why did you leave Shiratorizawa to come to Kurasuno?”

The one question you didn’t want him to ask. The one you knew he would ask anyway. 

You feel your breathing quickening as every memory that you’ve been trying to bury deep in your mind springs to the surface, filling your head with the world’s most fucked up slideshow of pain. 

You think of your parents and how they aren’t here anymore, of the way your father smelled when he hugged you before going to work. You think of Tendou watching television with you in your living room while dinner cooked in the kitchen, his arm around you because you weren’t afraid to lean into it. You think of wearing a black dress and then the same hoodie and sweatpants for three weeks afterward. You think of blood staining the walls, seeping through the cracks of the flooring. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you take a shaky breath, then release an even shakier exhale. You can’t force yourself to reopen them, not until someone pulls you by the hand, making you stumble. 

Blinking once, twice, you realize that you had stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. You look up, seeing the blond’s concerned expression, then down, to where he is still holding your hand, crescent marks in the shape of your nails freshly imprinted into your palm. 

Had you done that? 

You inhale again, forcing air into your lungs before the edges of your vision begin swimming. You can feel a panic attack coming, but you push it away as you do with everything, and everyone, else. Everyone but the boy standing in front of you, whose hand is warmer than anything you’ve felt in an extremely long time, long fingers wrapping around your own. 

He lets you go, though, and you look up at him with pleading eyes. “Anything but that, Kei,” you say in a trembling voice. “Please.” 

There’s a certain tenderness in his eyes, but it’s overshadowed by his need for knowledge. 

The two of you stand in the middle of the sidewalk, inches away from the road, and you can feel your breathing becoming even more labored as you remember. Is it really remembering if you never forgot, though, or is it the first step of coping? 

He manages to capture your eyes again from where they were trained on the pavement. “This is my question,” he says, not kindly nor harshly. Just matter of fact and honest, like he is. You can’t imagine what you look like right now; probably like a crazy person, with the marks on your hands and what you can only think to be the look of a dying animal on your face. 

“I can’t talk about it,” you whisper, more to yourself than it is to him. “I can’t…” The entire point of you leaving was so that you wouldn’t have to talk about this. You’ve been running from it since it happened, trying to convince yourself that you’re fine and, hopefully, forget about it entirely. 

You aren’t fine, though; that much is obvious. And, as difficult as it is to force yourself to stand there, letting this boy see what lies behind the cracked facade you’ve presented to the rest of the team ever since you let yourself get invested, you want to recover from this. 

He only continues to look at you, making no move to retract his statement. “You’ll never be able to move on if you don’t, (Name).” You know that he’s right; for the most part, he always is, either rubbing it in the faces of those he views as stupider than him or being so quiet about it that you’d mistake him for humble. That’s one thing that Tsukishima Kei is not, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s standing here like he actually wants to know you, to help you get over yourself. 

That can’t be the case, right? Not this stoic, sarcastic tower of a teenager, whose first defense is distance. 

You start walking again, turning your back on him and going towards your house. You hate yourself for a lot of things, and right now it’s for liking him as more than some fickle crush. You actually care about him, as a person and as a friend, and it’s because of this reason that you can’t simply lie, or tell him to piss off. 

You walk away because you know that he will follow. 

As he falls into step beside you, you fiddle with the sleeve of his jacket and take a moment to breathe. You’ll need it to do this, and you also know that you won’t be able to look at him while you talk. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything as he walks beside you, waiting for you to speak on your own terms. At least he knows not to force you. 

“My mom,” you start, fighting the tightness in your throat that threatens years. You will not cry. “She left my dad and I when I was really young, so it was always just the two of us since I’m an only child.” 

You pause, preparing yourself to say these words out loud for the first time. “Well, my dad killed himself at the end of February, right before the end of last school year.” You don’t turn to look and see if he has any reaction. The silence speaks for itself. You let it hang in the air for a moment while you gather your words, then proceeding. 

“I was devastated. Everything had seemed fine because he was so good at hiding how he was feeling, but he wasn’t doing well, obviously.” You lift your head up, looking at the stars and searching for something, anything. You know that you won’t find your father there, but a selfish part of you, the one that wants your old life back as well as the boy beside you, hopes that you will. “He was struggling, and I wasn’t reason enough for him to stay,” you say, voice breaking, tears brimming on your lashline. 

You blink quickly and clear your throat, knowing that he heard but pretending that it didn’t happen. “He shot himself when I went to school one afternoon, and I came home to an ambulance outside of my house, as well as my aunt sobbing by the front door. They weren’t fast enough to stop me from going inside, and I saw him.” You’re quiet for a moment, the air around you heavy enough that it feels like it’s weighing down on your entire body. “There was so much blood, Kei… He didn’t even look human, anymore.” 

Out of nowhere, he stops, and you quickly turn to look back at him. You recognize then that you’re outside of the front of your house. You haven’t answered his question, though, so you can’t go inside and cry, as much as you want to. 

You turn around completely, and he moves so that he’s facing you rather than beside you, making it almost impossible for your eyes to avoid him. He meets your gaze for a split second, and his face looks completely impassive. His eyes, however, are filled with something akin to sadness, something that you’d never expect to see in him; outwardly, at least.

You don’t know how to feel.

“Anyway,” you say, wiping your eyes before anything can spill out of them, “school was pretty much a living hell after that. My dad worked as a teacher at Shiratorizawa, so it wasn’t like I could get away from people that knew him.” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but they’re also freeing, somehow. You’ve been holding all of this to yourself for so long, you’ve become accustomed to the weight on your chest, the emptiness there. Letting that go, breathing for the first time while fighting tears and anxiety, is something that strange doesn’t even begin to describe. 

“There’s this weird thing about honor and suicide,” you say with a dry, sardonic laugh. “You don’t really understand it until you’ve been through it, but the adults will tell you that what’s meant to be will be. A couple of older, traditional ones told me that my father taking his life was his way of cleansing the dishonor my mother left on my family’s name.” Your voice is hard and angry at that, words sharp enough to cut diamonds. 

Who tells someone, fresh in grief, that suicide is a good thing, that you should be happy that your father loved you enough to do something like that? To you, it was the most cowardly way out, and it hurt. You loved him with everything in you, and he left you. Just like your mom did. Just like a lot of the people you talked to at school did afterward, because they didn’t know how to talk to someone who had lost both of their parents, who was an orphan. 

You gain control of your thoughts before speaking again, averting your eyes from him as he just stands there and listens. “I had friends, even a boyfriend,” you say, wincing at the thought of Tendou. “They were all on the volleyball team, which I had been recruited to manage back in the second year of middle school. Shiratorizawa does things pretty weirdly,” you laugh. “They were probably the only reason I survived attending classes for as long as I did...Everyone else would ask me about my dad, make me relive it, but they didn’t pry; they let me tell them on my own.”

“In the midst of all this, I was staying with my aunt and Kiyoko. It was pretty much assumed that I would just live with them, since they were the only remaining family that I was in touch with. But, after the funeral, a social worker contacted us and told my aunt that she couldn’t legally adopt me, since she’s a single mom and already has Kiyoko,” you say sadly, remembering the outrage she’d felt, and the fear that you had. “They wanted to put me in a foster care home nearby, or try to contact my mother, both of which I didn’t want.”

A gust of wind blows through the area, sweeping through your hair and leaving chills on your skin, despite the jacket. You look hesitantly at Tsukishima and see that he hasn’t reacted to it, but you still feel guilty as you twist the sleeve of his coat between your fingers. 

You continue. “Luckily for us, my aunt knew someone in the system who could pull a few strings, but it meant that I had to transfer from Shiratorizawa so that they couldn’t investigate any deeper.” You glace over to him, seeing the realization on his face as you answer his question. “I had to cut off all contact with the team because of it. The only people who know where I am, as well as about the custody situation, are who you all call Ushiwaka, the captain of the team, and their coach, Washijo. Everyone else thinks that I moved away without saying goodbye,” you say, your voice fading to a whisper at the end. 

You look up at him, eyes filled with tears, and see that his brow is furrowed, the hint of a frown on his face. “Does that answer your question?” you ask. The words turn into more of a sob than anything else, and you feel the first of your tears sliding down your face, cold in the air of the night. 

He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, he always has something ready to say, a retort, quip, or comment to add. Now, though, he just looks at you. Not with pity, but with empathy, and that’s something that deeply shocks you. 

As the tears slowly fall from your eyes, you look down at your hands, taking a step back from him, from all of this. You want nothing more than to run, but he has the power to catch you if you try, which plants your feet to the ground. “Kei,” you say quietly, eyes meeting his for longer than a millisecond for the first time since he asked his question. “Am I a bad person for leaving like I did? Am I like everyone else in my life?”

This is it, the question that you’ve been suppressing all of these memories in order to avoid, the fear that’s been dwelling in your subconscious. Because you know that the answer is most likely yes; at least, in your mind. You’ve been judging yourself to the point of depression for months, now, and you need someone else to affirm what you already know, to make it at least so that you aren’t doubting. 

Doubt, uncertainty, is worse than anything. 

Tsukishima blinks once before he responds. And, when he looks at you, it’s like he sees all of you; every part of yourself that you’ve been trying to hide lies vulnerable in front of him, now, and it terrifies you. 

“(Name),” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, “you aren’t a bad person, and you most definitely aren’t like your mother or father.” His voice sounds so certain, so confident, that you almost believe it. The tears pour faster from your eyes, and you can’t help the small, heartbroken sob that escapes you as you finally let yourself grieve without the interference of others’ expectations. 

Before you can reply, he quickly closes the distance between the two of you, wrapping both of his arms around your unexpecting frame and holding you. 

You freeze. It takes a second for you to realize that he isn’t trying to hurt you. No, he’s hugging you. Tsukishima Kei is hugging you. 

That revelation is all it takes for you to completely break down, throwing your arms around his torso and burying your head into his chest, sobbing as you let out everything that you’ve held inside for so long. 

Tsukishima says nothing, rubbing one of his hands in circles along your upper back, somehow soothing you. And, though your surprise is ultimately lost in your grief, you’ve only ever imagined him hugging you, having known that it would never happen in reality. You were wrong, though, and his arms around you feel different than you ever would have dreamed. 

Because, instead of possessive or indifferent, he feels warm; he feels like a home, the kind of completion that you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

You’re not sure how long he stands there with you, soothing you as you cry, but eventually, he pulls away just enough to look down at you, using one hand to bring your chin up from his chest. “You do know that we aren’t going to leave you?” he asks, referencing the people you’ve met at Kurasuno—the friends, you realize, that you’ve made. His second question. 

“No,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I don’t.” Your answer is raw and honest as you look up at him, his face, despite its lack of any real expression, more reassuring to you than anything else. 

Tsukishima lets out a breath, eyes searching yours. “You know that I’m not going to leave you, right?”

After a second, you nod, cheeks red with the cold and something else. He looks satisfied at that, and pulls away from you, gently disentangling himself from your arms. It’s extremely late, now, you realize, and guilt at delaying him even further starts to gnaw away at your nerves. 

You begin to take his jacket off to hand to him. “I’m sorry,” you tell him sincerely as you slide it off of your shoulders. 

His brow furrows immediately, and he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize,” he says. You can tell that he actually means it. “And keep the jacket until tomorrow. It’s supposed to be even colder in the morning, and you don’t have yours.” 

With that, he turns and begins the walk back to his house—which is about equidistant from yours to the school in the opposite direction—without giving you the chance to argue or saying goodnight. He must know that your own jacket is inside your house, rendering his reasoning ineffective, but you don’t think he cares at all. Something inside of you feels warm.

A partial smile blooms on your face, joining your puffy eyes and red cheeks. “Thank you,” you whisper under your breath as you turn back to your own house. 

Somehow, you think he hears you. 

Kiyoko doesn’t comment on the jacket you’re wearing as you walk to the school, meeting there before you take the bus to the Sendai City Gymnasium, only giving you a small smile when you walk down the stairs to leave. 

As a matter of fact, your aunt didn’t say anything about it either as you walked inside last night. There was a knowing look in her eyes, though, one that eliminated the need for words altogether. 

Tsukishima was right; it’s colder this morning than it was last night, and the sheer size of the jacket does much more to keep you warm than one of yours would, even if it is a little bit thinner. 

As you walk, you battle two things within your mind, the first being what happened last night. It’s still hard for you to believe that you actually told him about your dad, the thing that you’ve been pretending didn’t happen for so long now. You did, though, and he actually comforted you. Before that, you hadn’t been aware that he could do such a thing. You’ve always thought him complacent in being distanced from everyone, even when he was answering your questions. He’s only ever had conversations for longer than a few minutes with you and Yamaguchi at school, and you’ve never even seen him touch someone willingly. 

What makes you different? 

Why would he care enough to hug you, to tell you that he wouldn’t leave you?

The thought makes your chest tight, and the sheer amount of care in your heart for this boy is something you never thought you’d experience again. Of course, you don’t expect anything to come out of your friendship with him; why would you? It’s just a pipe dream, a fleeting hope that seems to shoot across the expanse of your mind more often than you’d like to admit. 

These things are only in the back of your mind, though, for the real thing that you’re thinking about now is the fact that you’re going to come face to face with Shiratorizawa for the first time in months. Not only is this a match for the spot in nationals, but it’s also your chance to accept that you’re no longer a part of their lives, no matter how much you want to hold on to them. 

You can’t be, as sad as that fact is, because you’ll be taken away from your aunt if you keep in enough contact. The friend of your aunt’s had told you that you couldn’t speak with them for at least a year, until the current third years were graduated and a full school term had passed. And, rather than telling them about the situation, you left without a word to anyone other than Ushijima. 

Shiratorizawa’s entire team had cared for you, you knew that, and you’re well aware that you should have given them a full explanation before you left. However, you also knew that Tendou would wait for you if that were the case; he would put his last year of high school on the back burner for you because he loved you. That was something you couldn’t let happen, because you cared—care—about him too much to let him waste a part of his life on you when he could find someone more deserving. You couldn’t let hope for your return affect his playing or the rest of the team’s. So, instead, you decided to give them anger to fuel it. 

Today, you will have to face your mistakes, and pull against your old team in the hopes that your current one can make it to Nationals, finally ridding themselves of the shame that they’ve felt after the past few years of being called the ‘wingless crows’. As well, you will have to give Tendou the explanation that he deserves, because you can’t deal with this guilt any longer. 

You feel your stomach turn over as you walk into the gym, knowing that you’re getting even closer to your match. Not only are you nervous about having to see them, but you know firsthand how talented they are. For Kurasuno to win, it will take a hard-fought game, and the anticipation of how difficult that will be makes your nerves taut as guitar strings. 

As the managers of the team, you, Kiyoko, and Yachi are the first to arrive at the school, your arrival time earlier due to the fact that you need to double-check your inventory and make sure that the bus is ready to go before the entire team arrives. So, when you get to the school and see that Yachi is already there, that’s exactly what the three of you do. You invest yourself completely in the tasks, effectively occupying your brain so that you aren’t worrying so much. 

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but, eventually, the entire team is gathered in the gym, practicing a couple of serves and spikes before you all have to leave for the match. Standing near the folded bleachers, you’re folding the team’s banner to carry with you onto the bus when Yamaguchi walks over to you. “Morning,” he says brightly, as he normally does.

Of course, you’ve been so enraptured by your work that you didn’t notice everyone else slowly filtering into the gym, so his presence takes you by surprise. “Crap, you scared me!” you exclaim, nearly dropping the banner. It only takes a second to place it down on the ground before you look over to him and see a smile on his face, one hand brought up to scratch the back of his head. “Morning, Tadashi. Are you ready for the game today?” 

The nervous look that appears on his face is the same way that your soul feels at the moment, and you can’t help but chuckle. “I have do doubt that you’ll do wonderfully,” you tell him in reassurance, genuinely believing it. Yamaguchi has worked on his serve almost every night for months. If he isn’t ready for this, then no one on the team is. 

He gives you a thankful glance, smiling, before his eyes widen, a mischievous glint appearing in them. “Hey, name, is that Tsukki’s jacket?” he asks with a suspiciously wide grin on his face, gesturing to the item of clothing draped over your frame. 

Your own eyes widen as well, completely having forgotten what you’re wearing. You brought it so that you could return it to him today, since you have your own jacket in your bag. And, because it’s so much more comfortable than your own, you wore it to the school with the intent to take it off as soon as you got here, which obviously didn’t happen due to your distraction. Your cheeks heat up just a little bit as you shrug the article of clothing off, folding it in your hands. “Oh, uh, yeah...He walked me home last night and gave it to me to wear, since Kiyoko accidentally took mine home with her,” you mumble, slightly embarrassed. 

You scan the gym for Tsukishima, finding him sitting against a wall on the other side of the room with his headphones in. You turn back to your friend, whose reaction suggests that he isn’t too surprised that the blond walked you home last night. 

Huh, you guess he must have told him about his plans. It makes sense, since they walk home together a lot. “I’m gonna go return this to him,” you say to Tadashi, gesturing over to your intended target. “Would you mind bringing the banner over to Kiyoko so that she can put it on the bus?” He gives you a smile and a thumbs-up, and you take that as an okay on his part. 

Tsukishima looks up as you walk over to him and slips his headphones off of his ears, letting them rest around his neck. “Hey,” he says in a low voice, golden-brown eyes flickering up to meet yours. You’re instantly reminded of everything you told him last night, everything that he knows about you, now. The fact that he’s still talking to you is shocking, in your opinion, but his eyes don’t hold any hostility towards you. If anything, there’s a sort of fondness there that you can’t decipher. 

It sparks hope within you. 

You need to stamp it out before you get carried away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. 

“Hey,” you reply quietly, holding out his jacket to him. “I think this is yours.” 

You wait for him to reach out and take it from you, or to tell you to fuck off and not talk to him, but he never does either. Instead, he shakes his head. “I don’t need it, and my bag is full. Just hold on to it until after the match.” 

His tone is dismissive, but anyone else could see what he’s doing; it’s obvious, with the hopeful look in his eyes that he tries and fails to hide. Well, it’s obvious to anyone but you, who only nods. You do your best to hide your own hope, the small bit of happiness in your chest that makes you feel light, but the corners of your lips quirk upward. “About last night…” you start, wanting to address everything that happened. 

“Don’t,” he interrupts you, his gaze firm. “You were honest, and that’s all that matters. You don’t need to try and justify what you said, because it was only the truth.” 

Your chest becomes even lighter, if possible. He isn’t judging you, or pushing you away? Not that you’d have thought him to be like the people that left you once they found out, but it’s a fear that dwells deep within you. Though he told you last night that he wouldn’t leave you, it’s hard to believe that which you’ve never seen. “Oh, um-”

It’s then that Ukai calls all of you over to him, ready to go over a few last-minute details and board all of you onto the bus. You turn your attention over to him for a second before it automatically finds its way back to Tsukishima. Blushing, you offer him a hand to help him stand up. It’s with a smirk that he accepts it. 

He grabs your hand again as you exit the bus and start walking into Sendai City Gymnasium, long fingers wrapping around your own smaller ones. Shocked, you look over to where he walks alongside you, his gaze fixed ahead of him and an indifferent look on his face. You glance down to where he holds your hand, a flutter of happiness moving from your stomach up to your throat, and adjust your own so that your fingers lace through his. A small smile makes its way to your face. 

You’re carrying a couple of bags with you as you walk, one slung over your shoulder and the other in your free hand, so Tsukishima holds the door open while you make your way through. You squeeze his hand in thanks, and he does the same in return. 

In front of you, you spot Yamaguchi waiting for the two of you, a knowing smile on his face as he eyes your interlocked hands. You only sigh and shake your head, ignoring his raised eyebrows in favor of looking straight ahead of you, much like the boy to your right. Your friend falls into step with the two of you as you walk towards the big gym. 

You pass Nishinoya and Tanaka, who look to be having a serious conversation, and their attention is immediately on you, nearly stopping you in your tracks. 

Your eyes widen as they both exude an aura of complete despair. “That is so unfair!” Nishinoya says loudly, gesturing to the two of you for the benefit of Tanaka, who also looks like his entire world has come crashing down around him. 

“How come the freaking first year is able to land a goddess like her?!” Tanaka whines, making it obvious who he believes should be in the first year’s place. A few months ago, this would have embarrassed you to no end and made you want to go hide in a hole for the rest of your days, but you’ve gotten used to the increasingly exaggerated compliments in the months that you’ve been a part of the team. 

You snicker under your breath, leaving them to their misery, and Tadashi lets out an audible laugh from Tsukishima’s right. “What a bunch of morons,” the latter mutters to himself, rolling his eyes so hard that you fear they might get stuck in the back of his head. 

However stupid their complaints, though, the second years draw pretty much everyone on the team’s attention to you, and you see several people’s eyes widen. In fact, both Hinata and Kageyama look like they’ve seen a ghost, whereas Kiyoko just sends a wink in your direction, which is the only thing about all of this that makes you blush. 

“Nishinoya, Tanaka, that’s enough!” Daichi says, exasperated, from in front of you. “You’re making a scene!” He, too, looks shocked, but he doesn’t say anything about it. You watch Ennoshita facepalm from beside him.

They both look down, like scolded puppies, but you can feel the glares that they send in Tsukishima’s direction. You just laugh. 

You make your way through the big double doors that lead into the actual gym, and you can feel your eyes widening. Despite having attended Nationals with Shiratorizawa last year, you’ve never really been able to get used to the number of cameras that are present at televised volleyball games. The rest of the team is shocked, too, and they look around the room in wonder, taking in the crowd on both sides, the sheer amount of people there to see them in comparison to past games. 

It makes your heart happy, seeing all of the support they’ve earned. 

Kiyoko is the primary manager, so she’ll be the one sitting on the bench with Ukai and Takeda, which means that you’ll be in the bleachers. As you wait for Shiratorizawa to arrive, though, you stand with your friends, making small conversation with Yamaguchi to ease the nerves you know he’s experiencing. 

Tsukishima is quiet, though, none of his sarcastic remarks present in the conversation. You notice him glare at the bleachers once, but nothing other than that. You aren’t really sure how to comfort him, since you know he’s resigned himself to the fact that you might lose in straight sets, so you just focus on the warmth of his hand. 

Then, the doors across from you open, cueing loud cheers from Shiratorizawa’s side of the court. The entire team turns their attention to them, nerves tensing. 

You watch as they walk in, purple uniforms immediately grabbing your attention, eyes falling to red hair and a typical, joking grin. You feel yourself tense as his eyes land on you, immediately widening. With a deep breath, you’re the first to look away, turning back to your team and forcing yourself to calm down. 

Letting go of the blond’s hand, you shoot him a forced smile. “Good luck, you two,” you say, looking between him and Yamaguchi. You note both of their expressions, the small nod from the brunet, and turn to walk over to the bleachers. Before you can, though, you feel your hand tugged backward, spinning you around, and then arms around you. 

“Relax,” Tsukishima whispers, lips just above the crown of your head. He pulls away quickly, and you give him a grateful look before you turn to find Yachi and make your way to the bleachers as they start warming up. 

Amidst the cheers of everyone in the room, you can make out his voice once more as you get further away. “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mutters to his best friend, bringing a wide smile to your face. 

You and Yachi make it to the bleachers just in time for the announcers to start introducing each team. Sitting next to Saeko, Shimada, Takinoue, and another blond that you don’t recognize, you watch as the members of Kurasuno come running down the court, the excitement tangible on most of their faces. 

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you notice Tendou pointing in your direction as he talks to Ushijima and the rest of the team. Then, all of their eyes are on you instead of just his, and you can feel the urge to cower down in your seat creeping up your spine. The looks of shock that they all display send pangs of hurt to your heart, but you did this to yourself. You keep your posture straight and look back at them, sending a small wave in their direction. 

You turn your attention away as Tsukishima runs down the court, his eyes finding yours as he moves. You send him a small smile, and he looks away. If you weren’t so far away, you’d say it looks like his face is red. 

As the members of Shiratorizawa begin their introductions, you feel a hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention. Jumping slightly, you look behind you to see the unfamiliar blond guy, a quizzical expression on his face. “You’re the girl my brother gave his jacket to last night,” he says, almost unbelievingly, as he gestures to the jacket over your shoulders, the one you put back on as you got onto the bus. 

This grabs Saeko and Yachi’s attention, and they seem to notice how big the jacket is on you for the first time. “Wait, that tall kid let you wear his jacket??!” the prior nearly shouts in disbelief, waving her hands around in the air. 

It’s then that the realization dawns on you. “Oh, you’re Kei’s brother, right?” you ask, turning back to the now identified man in front of you. Certainly, there’s resemblance in the looks department, but his personality seems to be completely different than his younger brother’s. You don’t acknowledge that you’re wearing his jacket; it doesn’t really seem that important to talk about, despite the fact that your heart is doing a little happy dance in your ribcage. 

“Wait,” he says slowly, eyes widening, “he lets you call him by his first name?!” This time he does shout, and you wince as you feel a death glare in your direction. Looking back to the court, you notice that Tsukishima has narrowed in on his brother, and he doesn’t look very happy. He looks over to you, and you send a very confused shrug in his direction, watching as his older sibling cowers down and uses you as a shield against him. 

You turn your confused gaze to Yachi, who only reciprocates your shrug, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. 

With a sigh, you focus your attention on Akiteru, as Tsukishima named him in passing conversation. “Yes, Kei lets me call him by his first name…We’re friends, after all,” you tell him dubiously. 

You hear laughter disguised as a cough from beside you, but you don’t pay it any mind. 

“He doesn’t even like it when Yamaguchi calls him Kei,” Akiteru mumbles to himself more than you. In all honesty, it’s pretty funny watching the cogs in his head spinning in order to process all of this new information, but you’re not rude enough to laugh at him. “Oh my god,” he continues, “Kei actually likes someone…” 

Your eyes widen slightly as your entire body flares with hope—happiness—as he turns to look at you. “Mom was on a warpath when he came home without a jacket last night, but he said he’d given it to a girl. Of course, we had to pry that information out of him…To be honest with you, we all thought he was too distant to actually like a girl, but here you are…Oh jeez, what is your name?” He rambles to you, speaking half-sentences that don’t really make any sense in succession of one another. 

“Gah,” he says, slapping his palm against his forehead, “I’m being rude. My name is Tsukishima Akiteru; I’m Kei’s older brother.” 

He offers his hand out for you to shake, and you hesitantly do so. “I’m Shimizu (Name),” you reply, watching as his eyes light up. 

Akiteru smiles as he lets your hand go, moving into the empty seat beside you rather than standing awkwardly behind you. “Thank you for putting up with my brother,” he says sincerely, a look of fondness on his face as he mentions Tsukishima. “He can be a bit mean and standoffish, but he’s really a good kid.” 

You shake your head, turning back to the court to see them in their starting formation, waiting for the referee to blow his whistle. “You don’t need to thank me. I enjoy talking to him,” you say softly, 

And, as you sit bundled in his jacket, watching him in his complete focus of the game, you really know that you mean it. 

There comes a moment in every person’s life where they experience passion—love in its purest, most unbridled form—for something. 

The catalyst could be anything: a song that makes someone want to create their own music, a line in a book that inspires someone to write, or listening to someone argue for what they believe in. It could even be a person, someone you love to the point of pain. 

From the audience, you watch as someone finds his passion. 

The volleyball comes barrelling towards Kurasuno’s side of the net with Ushijima’s spike, steadfast and strong. Hits like those are almost impossible to shut down, moving with such speed and force that they only leave destruction in their wake. This one, however, bounces off of the hands of Tsukishima Kei, hitting the ground on Shiratorizawa’s side, resulting in the complete astonishment of everyone on the court and in the crowd. It’s not a one-touch or a strategic aim of a spike; it’s a complete shut-out. 

Your jaw drops as silence descends over the room, which was filled with cheers and chatter less than seconds ago. The sound of the ball bouncing against the floor echoes in the air, and everyone wears the same expression: shock. 

Tsukishima is still, locked in the same position he was in when he landed from his jump. His head is lowered, his back hunched forward as he takes a deep breath. Then, he rises, shouting. 

The lights of the gymnasium make his blond hair, plastered with sweat, glow. One of his hands is in the air as he screams, filled with a sense of pride that can’t be named, only felt. He looks angelic, a creature having found its purpose for existing, its drive to succeed. 

He turns, his eyes immediately finding yours in the crowd, wide with disbelief. 

In the split second before the crowd uproars, you find yourself almost screaming with how loudly you cheer, heart full. 

Tsukishima is in a lot of pain, but he wouldn’t ever admit that to anybody. 

Well, honestly, he’d probably tell you, but only if you asked. And you seem to have a way of knowing what he’s feeling without him having to outwardly express it, so he probably wouldn’t even have to.

He sits in the medical facility of the gymnasium, his dislocated finger being splinted and wrapped. Though the pain is intense, it isn’t close to the first thing on his mind. No, he’s thinking of about four different things at once, all of which are equally as frustrating. 

First and foremost, he’s thinking of his plan of action for once he gets back out onto the court. He will get back out onto the court, medic’s permission be damned. He’s figured out the solution to the puzzle of Shiratorizawa’s defense, and he will not sit in the crowd and watch his team be defeated without it. 

Secondly, he’s thinking about that redheaded middle blocker on the other side of the court, the one whose been mocking him for the duration of the match. Though the ‘Mr. Vanilla’ comment had pissed him off, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the other things he had been saying; things about you, like he knew you as he did the back of his hand. 

Tsukishima supposes that he might, considering that you had been the manager for his team for over a year, but it makes him angrier than he probably should be, than is really justifiable. Because, as stupid and irrational as it sounds, he wants to be the only one who knows all the parts of you. He wants to be the one you go to when you’re upset, as you did when you let him comfort you last night. The way you had melted into his arms was a feeling of satisfaction, of contentment, that he’d never really experienced up until that point. 

He craved more of it. 

That middle blocker has really gotten underneath his skin with his comments, as much as he wants to deny it. The thing is, he didn’t even say anything bad about you. Not at all as he would have expected, considering how abruptly you had left, though you couldn’t be blamed for it. No, the third year talked as if he had been with you, and it irks Tsukishima to no end. 

He pictures spiking a ball into the redhead’s stupid grin, wiping it off of his face entirely. 

Thirdly, as he always seems to be these days, he’s thinking about you. More specifically, how you look in his jacket, the way that it swallows your frame. He’s always preferred his clothing to run large on him, and that has turned out to be a blessing in disguise; at least, in this case. 

Yamaguchi has been telling him for months (seriously, he’s been talking about it for months) to go after you, to make some sort of move, but he’s always been hesitant. He’s found himself attracted to you from the beginning, yes, but he’s also known that pursuing you would mean that he wouldn’t have indifference to use as a crutch. He couldn’t be distant in a relationship if he wanted it to work, and he wants this one to last. 

However, he isn’t good at closeness, at letting people in. He’s always been quick to use sarcasm as a buffer between others and his emotions because that’s the easiest way to avoid being hurt. He hates dishonesty, but that seems like lying in its purest form: avoidance. He doesn’t want to avoid you, though, despite being afraid of what giving himself to you could result in. 

He doesn’t care anymore.

And, finally, in the back of his mind, Tsukishima is slightly annoyed with his brother for coming to this game when he explicitly told him not to. Of course, he knew that it would happen, since Akiteru never listened to him, to begin with, but he hadn’t wanted him to watch him lose. 

Up until his block, Tsukishima had been certain that they couldn’t win. There was no way that Kurasuno could face such a tough opponent with such little experience and come out victorious. Now, though, call it stupidity or hope, he’s realized that they actually have a shot at winning this, and there’s no way that he’s going to waste it sitting in this damn infirmary because of an injured finger. 

“Can you feel that?” the medic asks, rousing him from his thoughts with a question accompanied by a poke that brings an immense amount of pain to his finger. 

Why the fuck can such a small appendage of the body hurt this much? 

He fights off a wince and nods, urging the guy in his mind to finish taping him up quickly. 

It’s then that he hears the sound of the door opening and turns to look at the source. In the doorway, he sees you, your hair slightly mussed and your eyes filled with concern. 

Tsukishima knows that it’s a minor injury at best. One that could put him out of the game? Yes. But on the grander scale of things, it’s relatively small. That doesn’t stop him from feeling way too good about the fact that you’re worried for him. 

You walk into the room, stopping just beside him and looking to Kiyoko for a general summary of what happened. You’re smart, to look to her instead of him. He would more than likely try to brush it off like he always does. That’s a result not only of him wanting to appear unshakeable in front of you, but also years of pretending to be unaffected by everything else in his life. 

After Kiyoko tells you that he’s going to be fine, you turn to Tsukishima with a tight smile on your face. Even though he can tell that it’s strained, he still would look at it all day if he had the chance. “You’re being pretty melodramatic, getting injured in the middle of a match like that,” you joke, trying to ease the tension in the room. 

He smirks, rolling his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah, you know me, (Name), always trying to make as big of a scene as I can,” he replies. Conversation always feels easy with you when it feels like a chore with most other people. 

You let out a laugh and turn to the medic. “He’s fine,” you tell him, fiddling with the sleeve of the jacket you wear. That’s another thing that Tsukishima likes about you; both of you fiddle with things when you’re nervous or stressed. 

The medic finally starts wrapping up his finger, and he lets out a sigh, turning to you. He might as well clarify this while you’re in the room and before he has to go back out and face the fucker, even if it will make you uncomfortable. “That middle blocker with the red hair,” he starts, his voice inquisitive. By the way you tense up at the very mention of him, Tsukishima can tell that he’s hit the nail on the head. He glances at Kiyoko before continuing, but you just give him a nod, signaling that he’s fine. “You said you had a boyfriend before you left Shiratorizawa...It was him, right?”

You nod, almost sadly, your face dark. It makes sense that you’re still upset, but he can’t help the jealousy that runs through him. The two of you are basically one step away from being together, but would you rather be with that guy? Someone who’s funny and spontaneous, who isn’t afraid to tell you what he’s feeling?

Tsukishima is not that, and he never will be. 

“His name is Tendou Satori,” you tell him, looking up to his face. “We dated for most of my third year of middle school, but we were good friends beforehand. How did you know that?” 

He lets out a laugh of contempt, making sure you know it isn’t directed at you. “He’s been targeting me for a lot of the match, both verbally and with his plays,” he says, recalling the intentional spikes in his direction. “I’m assuming that he saw me hug you, or saw you in the jacket.” He doesn’t say that he jumped to a conclusion, though, because Tsukishima honestly wants that conclusion to be the correct one. 

You just sigh, forcing yourself to push the emotions off of your face. It’s something that he would do, and he doesn’t like seeing that as an instinct for you. “I need to talk to him after this match,” you mumble to yourself, as if you’d already resigned yourself to it before you came in here. 

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything to that, since it isn’t really any of his business in the first place, and it’s your decision to make. “Okay, you’re all set,” the medic says. Finally, the words that he’s been waiting to hear. “You’re cleared to play, but you keep that finger taped to your other one for the rest of the game.” 

He nods and stands up. At least he’s well-rested for the final set. 

You move aside, walking to the door and waiting for him to follow. “Kei?” you ask as he exits the room, ready to get back onto the court and play. He turns to you, listening intently. He still gets a bit shocked every time that you say his name; he’s finding that he likes how it sounds in your mouth. 

Slowly and gently, you take his injured hand into your own, bringing it up to your lips and pressing the lightest of kisses to his fingers. When he looks at you in the most potent form of shock he can manage—his mouth slightly open, eyes wide with surprise—all you do is smile. “To make it feel better,” you say, before running off in the other direction, probably to let everyone in the bleachers know that he’s coming back into the game. 

Tsukishima watches you disappear down the hallway, not even noticing when your cousin walks out of the infirmary and begins walking back towards the court. “Hurt her, and I will make you regret it,” she says quietly as she walks past him, making the hair on his body stand up with fear. She truly is powerful, that one. 

This brings him out of his daze, and he begins walking quickly towards the gymnasium. As he walks, though, he can’t help but wish that you had kissed his lips, instead. 

The match ends, and Kurasuno wins after a full five-set game, with the score of the final set being twenty-one to nineteen. 

As the final whistle’s sound resonates throughout the room, you and Yachi hug one another as if your lives depend on it, both crying from sheer happiness. Your boys had worked hard, and it had paid off for them. 

Your celebration, though still happening amongst those there to see Kurasuno, is short-lived. As soon as the awards ceremony ends, you’re leaving the bleachers in order to find the team that you just defeated, specifically one tall, redheaded middle blocker. Though Tsukishima hadn’t outright said anything to you about going to give him an explanation, you could tell from his expression and your own moral compass that it was the right thing to do, even if you’d already decided to talk to Tendou before the match had even started. 

The halls on this side of the building are quiet; having been here before as a manager for both teams, you know how to find the routes that will be least crowded to get you to your destination. And, within minutes, you’re face to face with your old team. 

You can still see the tears staining some of their faces, accompanied by puffy eyes, and most of them are widened when they see you standing in front of them. “(Name),” Ushijima says in his own way of a greeting, nodding politely. For him, that’s as good as a hug.

“Wakatoshi,” you reply with a nod of your own. You look past him, eyes landing on your real target here. “Satori, can I talk to you?” you ask lowly, quietly, fear building up in the back of your throat. 

He looks shocked for a second before nodding, stepping out of the way of the rest of the team. “Tell Coach that I went to the bathroom or something,” he directs Goshiki, the only one your age on the team. “He’ll probably only add about fifty serves to the existing hundred.” His tone is light, but you can tell that the joke is forced. Funny, how you still know his mannerisms after not having seen him for so long. 

Goshiki nods without a word, and the team walks out towards the lobby, leaving the two of you alone. 

You force yourself to meet Tendou’s eyes, and you can see the pain there, the questions. His lips are pulled into a wry smile, though. “Long time no see, huh?” he asks, doing his best to joke his way through what is sure to be a difficult conversation. 

The corners of your own lips turn up, but you let out a sigh. “Yes, and I’m sorry,” you start, getting the apology he deserves out into the air early on. “You deserve an explanation, Satori. I shouldn’t have left without giving you one.” 

You hate the way that he flinches when you say his name. 

“I get why you did it, (Name). That was never the issue. After Miracle Boy told me what you told him, I was just more worried than anything else.” He looks up for a moment, taking a breath. His eyes then focus on you, digging into you. “It was just the fact that you didn’t even want to try,” he whispers, voice cracking. 

You feel that familiar pang of guilt, of hurt, in your heart, but it isn’t the only thing there anymore. It doesn’t hurt you as much as it used to. “I would have waited,” he continues, running a hand through his hair, his eyes downcast. 

“I know you would have, and that’s why I didn’t tell you,” you say, finally letting yourself be completely honest about the situation. “You would have wasted your entire third year waiting for me, Satori, and I didn’t want that for you.” Your eyes are wide and vulnerable, and you watch the way his posture deflates looking into them. 

He straightens himself quickly, though. “And that would have been my choice, (Name). It wouldn’t have been a waste if it was for you.”

He sounds so defeated that you find it difficult to continue. 

A part of you wonders what it would be like to just say fuck it, to run into your arms like you wanted to the last time that you saw him. You know that you could be happy with him; you were happy with him, at one point. But, since that time, your feelings have changed; they’ve developed for someone else. And, while you still love Tendou with all of your heart, it’s a different kind of love. A more nostalgic one that will always be with you. 

You hope that, one day, you’ll be able to be friends with him—with Ushijima, Semi, and Reon—like you used to be.

“You deserve someone who can be with you, Satori. Someone who can always laugh with you, and be open with you. Unafraid,” you tell him. “You deserve someone who will give you the entire world, because you’ve been through enough to earn it.” 

His eyes widen, and you take a deep breath. Time for honesty. “I can’t give that to you, not anymore. Dad doing what he did...it really messed me up, and I can barely tell Kiyoko anything anymore without wanting to hide from it, much less try to fix a relationship that I know I ruined.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but you push them away. “Somewhere out there is someone that will love you with everything they have, and I’m sorry that I can’t be that for you,” you whisper to him, smiling sadly. You watch his expression fall for a millisecond before he puts on a mask of his own, different than Tsukishima’s one of indifference. This one is purely one of forced happiness. 

“I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eye. He’s quiet for a minute, after that. You know what he’s going to ask, though. You always have. “You’re with the blond kid now, right? Four eyes?”

You take a second to think about it before you nod, the weight on your chest easing as you let it be known. Now, every little thing that you’ve been holding onto because of your guilt is gone, leaving you lighter than you’ve been in what feels like eons. “Yeah,” you say, “I am.”

He sighs, giving you one of his genuine smiles that used to light up your world. “If he hurts you, I will be the first to break him like the toothpick he is,” he says with a joking tone. You know that he’s serious, though. Even through his own hurt, he cares about you still. 

Cautiously, you walk towards him, making your intention known. Before you can say anything, he wraps you in a hug, sighing and pressing a final kiss to your hair. “You’re just as skinny as he is,” you mumble into his chest, laughing a little bit. 

It all feels bittersweet, letting this part of your life go; letting Tendou go. You know it’s the right decision, however, because his hug, which used to feel like the warmest greeting you could ever receive, now feels like the saddest goodbye. 

You find your team shortly thereafter, catching up to Yachi and the rest of them just before they meet up with the boys in the lobby. 

“Where did you run off to?” Saeko asks curiously as you slow to a walk beside her. 

It’s with a sad smile that you sigh. “I had to go and talk to someone,” you tell her, your hands still at your sides as you walk. 

She just looks at you in confusion, a small laugh bubbling past her lips. “I don’t get it, but you do you, girl.” You decide that you like her; you can see the resemblance in her and Tanaka’s personalities. 

Shortly thereafter, the Kurasuno volleyball team appears in your sight, but your eyes automatically flicker to a single person, one who is greedily drinking water from his bottle, his regular glasses in place on his face instead of the sport ones. As soon as you see him, you break away from the crowd of people coming to congratulate the team, moving quickly so that you’re standing in front of him.

It’s pretty impressive, too; the rest of the crowd is moving pretty fast. 

His eyes immediately find yours as you stand in front of him, searching them for a moment. “You won,” you breathe, all of the air pushing its way past your lungs, trying to reach him. 

Then, without a word, Tsukishima drops his water bottle and leans down to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands and bringing his lips to yours. 

People say that when you kiss the right person, there will be sparks like fireworks that dance across your lips and in your abdomen. They say that it will be rough and fast and full of energy, threatening to consume the both of you. 

Those people are full of shit. 

When you kiss the right person, it feels like warmth and safety, like home. It feels the way that the sun does in the springtime against your bare skin, warm enough to heat you up, but cool enough that you don’t burn. 

You smile against his lips as he kisses you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself be completely open to him. 

“Oh my god, it’s happening!!” you hear someone shout in the background, quickly followed by the sound of Yachi freaking out as well. 

The blond brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mumbles into your lips before pulling away. You open your eyes, which had unintentionally closed the moment his lips touched yours, and see a smile on Tsukishima’s face. A genuine one, free of any sarcasm or distance that would normally be present in his expression. The sight is something that you will never forget. 

Ignoring everyone around you, you smile just as brightly. “I didn’t know you were capable of looking so happy, Kei,” you joke, unwrapping your arms from his neck in favor of looping them around his torso, hugging him and leaning your head against his chest. 

“And I didn’t know that you were tall enough to kiss me, Shorty,” he retorts, wrapping his arms around you as well. You decide not to acknowledge the nickname, instead pulling away and rolling your eyes at him. 

You turn to see that most of the team is staring at the two of you. “What?” you ask in a tone that reminds you heavily of the boy beside you. Most of the people immediately turn away, pretending like they didn’t watch the entire thing go down. Tsukishima expresses his approval by linking his fingers with yours. You smile again, the most that you have since February. 

A voice pops up on your right. “Kei, a girl actually likes you...Oh my god, I can’t believe this is real,” Akiteru says, looking at his brother with a mixture of pride and disbelief. 

“Is it really that hard to believe?” he asks, annoyance leaking into his voice. Looking up at him, you can practically see a tick mark emerging from his temple. You squeeze his hand, laughing. 

“Yes!” everyone choruses around you as he squeezes your hand back. The icy glare that he sends the people who spoke up is cold enough to freeze a volcano. Now, though, he’s your weapon of mass destruction, so you don’t see a problem with it. 

You look over to see Yamaguchi sending his best friend a thumbs up, and you roll your eyes happily. He’s such a dork, but he’s a great wingman. 

On the other side of the room, you catch a tidbit of a conversation. “Hey, Kiyoko,” Tanaka says confidently, “maybe we should try that!” 

“Uh, no,” she replies nearly instantly, causing the poor guy to deflate like a balloon. It’s kind of sad, because you know she actually doesn’t mind him as much as she pretends to. You think they’ll get together within the next couple of years. 

You turn your attention back to Tsukishima, who is looking down at you fondly. “Do you need something?” you ask with a soft smile, looking back up at him. 

“Yes, actually. You owe me a question, now,” he tells you with a teasing smile. Your eyes widen a fraction before you slap him lightly with your free hand. 

“That’s so low,” you mutter, not really that upset. “Ask away.” 

He gives you another smile, and you feel your heart melt. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow, (Name)?” he asks, eyes genuinely full of nervousness. 

You let out a small chuckle, grin wider than he’s ever seen it. “Yes, Kei, you can.”

The question, the answer.


End file.
